


Dethroned

by elmstreetkid



Category: Dishonored (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Jessamine Lives AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-03
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-04-18 18:57:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 34,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4716872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elmstreetkid/pseuds/elmstreetkid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Dishonored AU where the Outsider grants Jessamine his mark instead of Corvo, saving her life and setting her on the path of vengeance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Death of an Empress

**Author's Note:**

> The result of an idea I had with some friends, and some ideas contributed from them, including the idea to of Corvo's trauma in the wake of failing to protect Jessamine and Emily, and the idea of Emily growing up to have a wife.

One never gets used to the stench of burning whales.

But that’s a necessary price to pay, the oil produced from the bodies of the creatures far too valuable to forgo for the convenience of a city without the odor. But it was acute to the restless mind of Empress Jessamine Kaldwin, as she looked over the gazebo railing at Dunwall’s horizon, thoughts far too clouded for a day as bright and clear as this. The Rat Plague has grown too widespread, taken too many lives under Jessamine’s rule, and as it pained her to lose her most trusted Lord Protector, Corvo’s travels to seek aid proved all too necessary as the victim count rose. But, word was sent that Corvo would make his return today, a message savored so by the Empress and her daughter, Emily, as they ticked away the minutes in anticipation of Corvo’s arrival. Emily craved the companionship of her friend and guardian, and Jessamine almost felt envy at her child’s optimism, an ideal she herself did not hold for her reunion with her Protector.

“Empress! Lord Attano has arrived at the dock. He’s to arrive shortly.”

The Empress bowed her head, her  _thank goodness_ breathy and unnoticed by the Watch Officer who brought her the news. “Thank you for informing me. You may take your leave.” The Officer bowed, an action repeated more stiffly to the Spymaster who now impended upon the gazebo where the Empress stood, now turning to face him. “Burrows. Do you have a matter to discuss? I have business to attend to soon.”

“I assure you this will take a moment, Empress. Our esteemed Lord Attano appears to have urgent business as well. Lady Emily appeared to be dragging him along by the hand for, as I believe she worded it, hide and seek.”

It was a struggle for Jessamine to stifle her grin. Oh Emily, she mused, you’ll need to be more patient if you’re going to succeed me. The Spymaster did not, or pretended not, to notice Jessamine’s amusement, instead shifting his hands behind his back and inching closer. “I have a proposition if you're willing to listen."

Jessamine gave a nod of her head. "I'm willing, but be succinct." At her approval, Burrows cleared his throat and continued.

"As you well know, the Plague is spreading by the day, Empress. There are too many people sick, spreading it about, people who don’t, ah, contribute much to our value of life, to the value of life for the majority of the City. The Plague has no cure, not yet, perhaps it never will. Corvo most likely comes with sour news, you and I are much too realistic to expect anything else. I believe our Watch officers should collect them, and I assure you that with the rate these people are dying, the prisons will never be full for more than a moment. They would be disposed of, and more importantly, away from Dunwall's healthy citizens.” Burrows spoke coolly, as though the forceful quarantine of people,  _her_ people, people with families and friends, was just another matter of business to him. It was outrageous.

“Burrows, they’re sick people, not criminals!” Her voice was raised. Her foot was down. Burrows would not get his way in a matter such as this.

“We’ve gone beyond that question, Your Majesty.” His hand struck the air, discontent at her response, “they are-”

“They are my citizens. And we will save them from the Plague if we can.  _All_ of them.”

Burrows’s face went wry. “Very well.” He almost seemed to spit his words. Jessamine’s gaze averted from the man. “We will not speak of this again.”

The petite click of heeled shoes so small they could only belong to Emily echoed in the distance, growing nearer and nearer until the young lady appeared before the Empress and Spymaster, Lord Protector in tow. “Mother! Corvo is back!” The Empress gazed softly at her daughter. “Thank you Emily,” she said, before turning back to Burrows with a harsher expression on her face, “Leave us, please.” He bowed to her, almost forced, like a child upset towards his mother but unwilling to defy her. “As you wish, Your Majesty,” nodding in greeting to Corvo as he walked past him and and out of the gazebo.

"It’s a fair wind that brings you home to me. What news have you brought?” A man of few words, Corvo met eyes with the Empress, giving a soft, sympathetic gaze before holding up a letter. She extended her hand, Corvo's own brushing against her fingers as the letter was placed in it, weighing heavy in the Empress’s palm and delivering the news she feared: the other cities had no cure for the Plague. She turned back towards the view of the sea.

“I hoped one of the other cities had dealt with this before, knew of some cure. This news is very bad.” The stationary dropped to the stone floor of the gazebo, abandoned by the Empress as her arms crossed over her stilled chest, superseded by a sharp exhale. “ _Cowards._ They’re going to blockade us. They’ll wait to see if the Plague turns the city into a graveyard.”

For the moment, there was only the Plague. The imminent destruction of Dunwall from the inside out. What could be done? Sokolov created his elixir, but that worked to  _prevent_ the Plague, not cure it. It wasn’t enough, there had to be something. A small hand against her back stirred the Empress from focus. “Are you okay, Mother? You seem sad.” Emily. She still had Emily, and she had Corvo. She still had something, enough for her. “Yes, don’t worry, darling.” Her own hand reached out to pet Emily’s hair, comforting her daughter, earning a gentle touch to her wrist in return. “Mother is fine.” For the moment, it was only her, and her daughter, in the gazebo… The gazebo… it was silent. The Watch were missing. Jessamine’s hand withdrew to look about her courtyard. “Wait, where are the guards? Who sent them away?”

Emily’s hand tugged on her trousers, calling for her mother’s attention. “Mother, look! What are they doing on the rooftop?” Men, garbed in whaling uniforms, ran along the rooftops, blinking out of existence in a way that was inherently wrong. It was all wrong. The heavy weight of dread sank into Jessamine’s belly, causing her to instinctively pull her daughter to her. “Emily, come here.” She focused on Corvo, his hands tensing near his blade and pistol, before the men blinked into existence once more, into the gazebo with weapons of their own. One came after the other, attempting to lash out with their swords only to be put down by the Lord Protector as the Empress shielded her daughter’s eyes from the sight of blood, and her ears from the sound of gunshots. When the would-be killers were no more, Jessamine felt Emily break free from her trembling grasp to seek refuge in Corvo’s arms. ”Corvo, thank you.” Relief washed over Jessamine. Her daughter was safe. She was safe. “If you hadn’t been here…”

Her gratitude was cut short. Another, dressed in the same whaler’s gear as the others, appeared from the air, restraining Corvo with some form of bewitchment as a fourth, his coat red and head uncovered, arranged himself from the empty space, dagger drawn in hand and advancing towards the Empress. “No more!” she urged, pushing the man in the red coat as he approached Emily.

“No! Get away from her!”

The back of his gloved hand stung against her cheek, the Empress faltering, calling out for Corvo, as that same hand closed upon her windpipe like a vise. The dagger was removed from her view and replaced as a sharp, biting pain in her abdomen, before the man threw her to the ground, the sticky warmth of blood beginning to pool around her. The gazebo hummed with noise, Emily’s cries and the thud of a falling body, before Jessamine was cradled by arms that could only belong to Corvo.

"Empress? Empress! Jessamine, please. They... they took Emily. We need to get you help.” His voice was still warm, still laced with the slight Serkonian inflection he had as a younger man. It was an odd comfort for Jessamine. “Corvo, it’s all… coming apart…find… find Emily. Protect her.” Corvo’s face grew obscured, blurred in the Empress’s eyes. “You’re the only one who will know what to do. Won’t you? Oh Corvo… when you are near, my heart is at peace…” Her eyelids grew too heavy, her thoughts grew too dim, the sounds of the world around her muffled to the ache of her body.

“Look at what he’s done!”

“Yes, he’s killed the Empress!”

The Empress

The Empress

The Empress

_My dear Empress_

Someone was with her. Not Corvo. Not a guard. Jessamine’s muscles were lead, and she could not bring herself to strain her neck to see the face of the man before her, eschewed to staring at the feet of the brown boots he wore. He paced in front of her, heavy steps that made no noise against the ground, as though his feet weren't even touching it.

“My dear Empress,” he crooned, “what a cruel hand fate has dealt you. Your city slipping from your grasp, your daughter taken, and the man sworn to defend your life charged with the crime, and his life to be taken from him as yours was from you: dishonestly.” He knelt before her, his visage close enough to be observed as he took her hand, like a nobleman eager to win her favor at a gala, and it became undeniable who he was. His cheeks were lined with youth preserved in an otherworldly manner, and his eyes glittered black, as abysmal as the seas themselves. The Outsider had come to Jessamine Kaldwin.

“I could lend you aid, if you wish it. His fingers were warm against hers, inhumanly so, as though they were made of water that had sat in the sunlight for a day. "You are a competent woman, are you not, Jessamine? I can give you your life, and more if you seek it. Emily, Corvo, your city. I can give you the chance to obtain all you hold dear back. And to take from those who would so cruelly take from you.”  The Abbey warned of the Leviathan, the sorrows he brought. But what he offered was too dear to be kept from her by the Strictures.

“What would… you seek in return…?” She wheezed, the thread by which she remained onto her life growing more and more bare by the second. The being’s expression remained as it were, but his eyes radiated his satisfaction. “You fascinate me, dear Empress. In return, entertain me. Sate my curiosity. Show me the will and wrath of a woman seeking what's rightfully hers.” He pressed his lips to the back of Jessamine’s hand, the nerves growing alive, burning as the skin seared and glowed, forming a mark that was arcane, unholy. The sensation spread throughout her body as the Outsider rose, staring down at her. The life that now flowed back into her veins became too much for the Empress, and she closed her eyes once more, but now, it was just for a moment and not for an eternity. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jessamine finds the Loyalists and proves her identity with (embarrassing) knowledge only she would know about Lord Pendleton in order to ally with them.

Jessamine Kaldwin was not in Dunwall Tower. 

Springs from the threadbare mattress she lied upon pressed into her skin, what wasn’t covered by her underclothing, a rather inquisitive rat nosing around in the corner of the room. No, this was not Dunwall Tower. 

The Tower.

The Tower, the men, Corvo, and Emily. Was that real? She made a deal, did the Leviathan follow through? She shifted, sat up to get herself off the makeshift bed, and instead was rewarded with a tender throb in her stomach. A thin, perversely neat scar ran along her skin, nerves alive as she traced the tip of her index finger over it. So it was real. But what to do? She didn’t have Corvo, they thought he killed her. They think she's  _dead._

“Ooh, are you awake, dear? Did you sleep well?" 

She was unnatural, the old woman who stood in the doorway before the Empress. The hovel around her clashed with the dated fine clothing she wore, the grime from her surroundings coated her like dust on an antique. Frail hands crossed in front of her, with a congenial gaze cast towards Jessamine.

"I saw your hand, dear. Our gentleman caller has a type it seems? He wanted me to make sure you got your rest. He said you had an accident.” Jessamine felt her hand rise to her belly.

“Did you heal me? How?” The woman dismissively waved her hands, shook her head and a lock of coiffed grey hair wriggled free from behind her ear.

“Oh no no. Our caller fixed you, dearie,” she turned to shuffle towards a shelf, “he left a note just for you... Oh, is that all? Tch tch tch. Don’t fret. Granny will take care of you. Let’s see here…" 

As the woman, the Granny, searched through her shelves, the Empress plucked the scrap of paper more likely than not to be the "caller’s” note from the rickety chair it sat on. 

_Go to the docks, Find Samuel. Ask to be taken to the friends of the Empress. Good luck, dear Jessamine._

“Here we go! They might be a little big on you, dear, but they’ll cover you just the same.” Granny thrust a moth-eaten pair of trousers, shirt, and coat into the Empress’s arms. “There are shoes by the door, love. I’ll be waiting there for when you’re finished dressing.” She beamed, sweetly, as though she were really Jessamine’s grandmother, before making her way towards the foyer of the rickety home. 

As good as her word, Granny had herself poised by the door with shoes and a pilled shawl, waiting for Jessamine. “Here are your shoes, and here” she wrapped the shawl around Jessamine’s neck, tucking her hair behind her ears and tucking the wrap to her chin, “nice and warm, are we? Keep your head down now, dear, and you’ll get home nice and safe.” Her thumb caressed Jessamine’s cheek, as nuturing as the Empress herself would have been with Emily. “Stay safe now, sweetie, and make sure you come visit Granny again soon." Satisfied with her doting, Granny opened her front door and waved Jessamine goodbye.

There was the river, Wrenhaven River. The Distillery District. She was in the Distillery District. It was real,  _alive._ Even the smell of burnt whale was welcoming, nostalgic even. Jessamine wrapped the coat tighter, tucked herself into the scarf, and set off down Endoria Street towards the docks. The dock workers and even the Watch paid no mind to her, as if she wasn’t even there, as if there wasn’t a woman stepping down the stairs of the docks. A diminutive stack of smoke radiated from the far end of the shore, a boat seen through the unkempt grass. An older man, not as old as Granny, warmed his hands over a modest flame.

"Excuse me? Are you Samuel?”

Samuel perked up, stood and adjusted his jacket. “Yes, miss. That’d be me. Are you the one who left the note?" 

"I’m afraid I don’t know about any note. I, in fact, received one myself. I was told you find you, and ask you to take me to the, er, friends of the Empress?" 

The boatman nodded his head. "I see, I see, so we have a mutual friend, then? One who guided us together it seems like. Well,” he stepped in to the wobbling boat, extended a hand to assist Jessamine, “we’ll get you where you need to be, don't you worry. If you don’t mind me asking, what’s your name? You already know mine and I don’t reckon you’d like to be called ‘miss’ exclusively." 

"Jess. You can call me Jess." 

The boat’s motor spurred on, The Distillery District grew smaller and smaller, further away. "Well, Jess. We’ll get you where you need to go." 

…

Where she needed to go, as it were, was a pub. Samuel eased the boat into a dilapidated dock outside the Hound Pits Pub, a rather unimpressive bar in a rather unimpressive part of Dunwall. "Now, Jess, you go right in and talk to the folk in the bar. I'm sure they'll be happy to have more hands to help. I’ll be right here if you need me.” Samuel opened his coat, pinching a cigarette between his fingers and gave an encouraging nod towards the bar. 

The pub was nicer on the outside, it seemed. Besides the servants scuttling in the corners, only two men sat in it, tobacco smoke pluming around them. The older of the two was a broad man in a military uniform, the younger a spindly man dressed aristocratically. The older deferred to the younger when Jessamine entered the bar.

“I’m sorry, but we don’t need any more maids, miss. Find your way back home, now, or if you’d like we can have Samuel escort you." 

"I’m afraid you’re mistaken, gentlemen. I understand you’re friends, as it were, of the Empress." 

The older man snorts. "That's right. We’re Loyalists, missy. We’re trying, that’s the keyword,  _trying,_ to find the Empress’s daughter. If we can get her, we might have a chance to have a Kaldwin on the throne again. We don’t need another servant to shine the glasses, we need someone to help with that.” The younger man was imbibing from a pocket flask, staring back and forth from Jessamine to the older man.

So this is why she was to come here. The Outsider wanted to see her get her revenge, and these men might be her only means of getting it, if they could just cooperate. "They want a Kaldwin?", she broods, blood heating the skin of her cheeks, "well I'll give them a Kaldwin."

“I can help with that,” the wrap around her throat comes loose by her index finger, “you see, I am the Empress." 

"Bull _shit._ ”

The younger, oddly familiar man, had his flask away. “The Empress is dead. And you are far too… unkempt… to be anywhere near aristocracy. Now leave, or we will get the Watch.”

The older man scratched his stubbled chin, looking Jessamine up and down. “I don’t know, Pendleton,” he focused on the younger man, “she bears a resemblance, perhaps more if she cleaned up. Besides, they never found the body, did they? Just a puddle of blood.” Pendleton sneered at the other man. “Yes, but the Royal Physician said it himself, Havelock, that it would take a miracle for someone to lose that much blood and live." 

"Did you say your name was Pendleton?" 

Pendleton and the other man, Havelock, turned back to Jessamine. "Yes. Lord Treavor Pendleton. Why do you ask?”

The Empress crept closer to the bar, eyes locked onto Pendleton’s. “I remember you. The aristocrats needed my attention on a matter, and you trailed along with your brothers, Morgan and Custis, were they? I remember they ignored you, disregarded you, and in response you slunk off, no doubt to comfort yourself with that flask in your coat. My maids came to me in alarm. 'Empress Empress', they shrieked. 'There’s a man asleep on the linens', they cried.” Pendleton’s face began to turn sickly, pale and haunted.

“You remember now, don’t you Lord Pendleton? I walk into my wash room, and what do I find? You. Drunk and asleep on the dirty sheets and nightclothes, with a pair of my… unmentionables on your head. When you finally roused awake you begged me not to tell anyone, lest of all your brothers." The color was drained fully from Pendleton's face at this point, grimacing as though he were about to retch.

"I’ve always been an honest Empress, have I not, Lord Pendleton? Would I have not kept my word and gossiped about this? Or do you think I honored your request?” Treavor looked on the verge of fainting, steadying himself on the edge of the bar with one hand and the other hand trembling as he called a servant over. “Wallace. Wallace, get Piero. Tell him Havelock and I have matters to discuss with him.” The servant, Wallace, nodded curtly, turning on heel to find whoever this Piero may be. The hand that beckoned him now reached into Pendleton’s coat once more. “Havelock. She’s telling the truth.  _This is the Empress._ ”

It was Havelock’s turn to be shocked, his barstool clattering behnd him as he violently rose from his seat. “Outsider’s eyes, Pendleton! Are you absolutely sure?”

Treavor took another sip from his flask, sloppy, a bead of liquor in the corner of his mouth. “I’d stake my life on this, Admiral. Look, Piero has better eyes, better ears. Let’s have him come in here and get his opinion. Speak of the devil, there he is.” Another man, in glasses, more likely than not Piero, near sprinted into the pub.

“Is it true? Are you the Empress? I’m sorry, Your Highness, I didn’t introduce myself. Piero Joplin, inventor for the Loyalists.” He bowed, perhaps too far, stumbling as he rose back up. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Piero, but I’m not the Empress anymore. You can just refer to me as Jessamine.”

Piero adjusted his bifocals, the sparse lighting of the pub reflecting off the lenses. “You sound like the Empress, or rather yourself. Your speeches, the recorded ones at least, circulated for some time after your death. Ah, I mean your assumed death. People wanted to remember you. And just as well, you look like the portraits by that hack, Sokolov. Well, lucky for us that painting is his strong suit. By all means, I'd say you're the Empress. Or, rather. You _were_ the Empress. Gentlemen I hope you realize what an opportunity you have here.”

Havelock scratched his chin once more, drumming the fingers of his other hand on the bar. “What do you want, Jessamine? Everyone else thinks you're dead, and even without that issue, we can’t put you on the throne when the Lord Regent is still heavily supported, so what is it you seek to gain from us?" 

"I want my daughter back. I want Corvo back. I want the people who did this to me, who took my family and my city from me, gone, and I want to be the one to do it. I want that, and you can put Emily on the throne." 

Havelock surveyed her, turned his gaze to Pendleton. "Well, Lord Pendleton? What do you think. The terms are fair, in my opinion. Think about it, she’s an unknown. Everyone think she’s dead, she’d be virtually undetected.” Pendleton crossed his arms over his chest, inhaled sharply. “I agree, Admiral. We’d be fools to turn her away. Very well,” he uncrossed his arms, adjusted the lapels of his suit, “Jessamine, please excuse the Admiral and I. One of the maids, Lydia, will show you to a bedroom. She’s near the stairs. Rest up, and in the morning we’ll have the first step planned out for you. I’m sure you’ll be eager to begin our work."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Interlude between Jessamine's arrival to the Hound Pits Pub and her first assignment in which she's taken to the Void in her dreams by the Outsider.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for this chapter not being as long as the others. The life of a college student is quite taxing.

Something was wrong in the attic of the Hound Pits. That much was evident to Jessamine. by the fog that clouded over the windows, the dismal lack of noise from the pub below. Even the spectral lamps that had settled themselves here and there were disturbing to her. But, the issue would not resolve itself, and there would be no use worrying herself throughout the night, and the Empress climbed from her cot to take action. 

The mystery of the silent pub was solved first. A tentative step from her room revealed that the attic was all that remained of the Hound Pits Pub, the rest was an unholy amalgamation of stone steps and plateaus, floating in an emptiness, a void of sorts. No, not a void,  _the_ Void. Where the Leviathan dwells. Jessamine fastened up her coat, following the steps that led upwards from the remains of the attic. He can’t have brought her here for no reason, and she needed to know what that reason was. The steps were uncanny to the ones at Dunwall Tower, the plateau it led to equally as reminiscent, but the nostalgia was lost as a now-familiar man phased his being into existence in front of her. 

“Hello, Jessamine. I see you don’t disappoint. Are you well? I'm sure you had no trouble getting to your current accommodations." 

"Spare the pleasantries. Why have you summoned me here?" 

The Outsider’s arms crossed behind his back, eyelids narrowing towards the Empress. "I have drawn you into the Void for a reason. We have unfinished business, do we not? Or have you not paid attention to your hands recently?” He gestured towards Jessamine’s left hand, held in a fist at her side. “I am the Outsider, and this is my mark. You are going to play a pivotal role in the days to come, dear Empress. There are forces in the world and beyond the world, great forces that men call magic, and now these forces will serve your will. Use this newfound power. My gift to you." 

The branding on the Empress’s hand gleamed as he spoke, the nerves around it faintly more animated than the rest. "So, am I to just know how to use this craft, Outsider? Or will you be kind enough to bestow it’s knowledge upon me?”

The corners of the youth’s mouth plucked back for a moment. “I would not have taken our dear Jessamine as an ingrate.” He spread his hands in front of him, his body slowly dissipating into the Void itself. “Come find me." 

Jessamine clenched her fist once more. That cursed Leviathan. The "sorrows” he brings be damned, the Abbey should preach against his no good cryptic attitude. Find him, how was she supposed to find him? The ground was broken, scattered mesas with gaps too far to jump. Did he expect her to use magic? How? She was no witch, at least she wasn't before. She had no knowledge of the arcane or what the gift could do, much less how to use it. Her nails dug into her palm, her skin twitching and that’s when it dawned on her: below her fist was a spot of vapor, almost a full circle but not quite, and when she shifted her hand, it moved. Her muscles felt coiled, as though they were preparing for movement… movement… like a jump. Oh, this could end very badly, but she had no reason to distrust the Outsider now, not after all he’s done. Skeptical, she directed her hand in the direction of the nearest plateau, sickeningly enough the gazebo from the Tower, and clenched her fist. The spot was now a small pillar, and when she loosened her hand, it was as though the world around her rushed by, and she stood in the gazebo, blood spilled across the floor. Her blood spilled across the floor, but her body was not present, instead a tattered note lied beside the stain:

_YOU CANNOT SAVE THEM YOU CANNOT SAVE THEM YOU CANNOT SAVE THEM YOU CANNOT SAVE THEM YOU CANNOT SAVE THEM YOU CANNOT SAVE THEM YOU CANNOT SAVE THEM YOU CANNOT SAVE THEM YOU CANNOT SAVE THEM YOU CANNOT SAVE THEM YOU CANNOT SAVE THEM YOU CANNOT SAVE THEM YOU CANNOT SAVE THEM YOU CANNOT SAVE THEM YOU CANNOT SAVE THEM YOU CANNOT SAVE THEM YOU CANNOT SAVE THEM YOU CANNOT SAVE THEM YOU CANNOT SAVE THEM YOU CANNOT SAVE THEM YOU CANNOT SAVE THEM_

Macabre, but what else was to be expected in the Void? Jessamine made an attempt, noble as it was, to focus on the task at hand, blinking herself to and fro on the plateaus, but it seemed the Void was deadset on perturbing her, for one held her daughter. Not really Emily, though her stomach churned as though it were. Instead it was almost a portrait of her, frozen in time, with Lord Pendleton’s brothers seemingly scolding her. This scene contained a letter as well, tiny and fallen bereft of Emily’s hand as one of the Pendletons grabbed her by the wrist: 

_Corvo,_

_I am very sad. They say that you’re dead like Mother, but I’m going to put this note into a bottle and throw it into the river because I do not believe them. Living here is very strange. I do not like it, so please come for me if you can._

Emily. She deserved more than this, more than these captors of hers playing the pitiful roles of nursemaids to her. Waves of disgust radiated through Jessamine, and only strengthened her resolve to find her daughter. She let the note drop to the floor, and continued on in her task.

After traversing several plateaus and winding stairs, the Outsider appeared to her again from the nothingness of the Void. He crossed his arms over his chest. “In the days that follow, your trials will be great, Jessamine. Seek the runes bearing my Mark in the lonely places of your world and at shrines raised in my name. The runes will grant you powers beyond those of other men. To help you find these runes I give you this,” he turned up his palm, miasma bursting forth and clearing to show a heart, as human as the one in Jessamine’s own chest, yet twisted, stitched together by machinery, both natural and unnatural, “the Heart of a living thing, molded by my hands.” The Heart itself phased from its creator’s palm in a his own manner, and Jessamine felt a weight in her pocket. The Outsider’s outstretched arm returned to its previous position, crossed with the other. “With this Heart, you will hear many secrets, and it will guide you toward my runes, no matter how they may be hidden.” Jessamine could feel a light beating against her hip.

“Thank you, Outsider.”  

He grinned once more at the Empress. “Gratitude is much more befitting of you, dear Jessamine."

"Tell me, what do you have to gain from this contemptuous attitude?"

He held up his hands, one fiddling with the rings on the other. "Provocation, dear Empress. You're special, Jessamine. You're not a soldier or guard, a worker or servant. You can't just be given orders to guide you in your task. You were a ruler, you gave the orders. You have a will like a bulwark, and you perform best when under pressure. I can't provide the pressure of a city's demands to motivate you, so I have to grate on your nerves in other ways." 

A low sound of disgust resonated from Jessamine's throat. "Childish! Even Emily outgrew such behaviors!"

The Outsider smiles again. "And yet it works. If I were cooperative, would you still be tense? On guard and aware? Would there still be an irritation to fuel your fury, your desire? But, as you said, enough pleasantries. Listen to the Heart now, and find another rune.” No sooner than he appeared, the Outsider dissipated once again.

No sooner than when Jessamine pulled the Heart from her pocket, the beating accelerated, pulsating in her hand. The beating became more and more fevered as she walked along, maneuvering through an overturned spire suspended in the Void, the Heart whispering its secrets into her very mind.  _Someday this place will devour all the lights in the sky… I hold it as a comfort…_ it croaked, its voice reminiscent of a sickly teenage boy. It continued its incessant throbbing, until Jessamine reached a plateau containing a gaudy shrine of purple velvet, a carved piece of bone resting on a pedestal. The Heart felt as though it was about to burst in her palm, placated only when the rune was plucked from its resting place. The bone was warm, and shimmered as the Empress held it, as though her interaction pleased it. Her veins tickled, spreading from her hand up her arm until she felt a pressure in her eyes so intense that she had to keep them closed to alleviate even a portion of it. When the feeling subsided, her eyes opened, and in an unspoken manner, the rune conveyed its knowledge to her: an enhancement of her sight, through walls and even in the thickest clouds of darkness. All she had to do was blink her eyes. The rune in her hand crumbled, turned to dust upon the floor, its purpose expended, and the Outsider came forth once more. 

“How you use what I have given you falls upon you, as it has to the others before you. And now I return you to your world, but know that I will be watching with great interest, dear Jessamine." 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The events of the "High Overseer Campbell" mission, featuring more interactions with the Outsider and Granny Rags

A dainty knocking stirred Jessamine from her sleep, head heavy and the Outsider’s Mark ever present on her hand. The maid who was behind the door, knuckles still raised and about to knock, jumped when Jessamine opened the door. "Oh, m-my Lady! Or, er, Your Highness”, she was dressed in a boyish manner, gripping her hat in place as she bowed for the Empress. “I’m sorry to wake you but the Admiral would like to speak to you. My name is Cecilia. If you need anything, just ask for me or Lydia.” The poor girl was stupefied by Jessamine.

“Thank you, Cecilia. It was very kind of you to come and get me. But, you don’t have to call me such formal titles anymore. Jessamine is fine. If you’d prefer it, Miss Kaldwin is also acceptable.”

Cecilia tugged on her sleeves, still jittery. “Y-yes ma'am, Miss Kaldwin. Havelock is at the bar waiting for you. Have a nice day, ma'am.” Jessamine nodded. “You as well, Cecilia." 

Havelock was leaning over a table in the Hound Pits, consumed in text spread over it, a glass of whiskey in hand. He turned to Jessamine as soon as he heard her footsteps. "Good to see you're up. Still can't believe you're here, but anyway, let’s get down to it. Jessamine, your Spymaster Burrows, the ‘Lord Regent’ now, orchestrated your murder. Well, your attempted murder. Are you aware of that?" 

"I had an inkling. He never seemed satisfied. When I heard you and Lord Pendleton speak of a Lord Regent yesterday, I tried to think of who that would be. I remember, after… after what happened, I heard him blame Corvo as soon as the guards found us. He immediately had him taken into custody, too. Before the incident, there weren’t any guards nearby, and he was the last person to speak to me besides Corvo. It made sense to be him, and you’ve confirmed him. So now what? Do you have a plan?" 

Havelock wet his throat with the drink in hand. "We do. First off, I know that assassination is dark business, not fitting for a lady such as yourself. But sometimes good people have to do bad things to make the world right. Our purpose is clear; we want to restore your line, and you want Emily and Corvo back. We’ll find them. To those ends, we’ll hide, act in shadow. Take them apart, piece by piece.” He paused, raised the glass to his lips once more.

“I’m confused, Admiral. How do I play into all of this? I’m no assassin.”

Havelock’s glass made a soft  _clack_ as it was set upon the worn wooden table. “You’re not. But, you’re an unknown. People think you’re dead, and if they saw you now, without your fine clothes and makeup, your hair knotted, they’d mistake you for another poor soul on the street. You’re practically a ghost. Most of all, you’re smart. I realize that Corvo may have taught you things to protect yourself if he wasn’t around, but you also have that mind of yours to figure out these situations. What you lack in strength, you make up for in cunning. We have equipment for you, and all you have to do is go into your assignments, and figure out how to get the job done. You ran the city, this should be much easier.”

“Alright. So what do I do first?”

“You’re getting rid of one of the Lord Regent’s supporters. Tonight, High Overseer Campbell dies by your hand.  It won’t be easy. He’s protected by his Overseers, an army of religious zealots. But if anyone can do it, you can. You’re determined, and one of the best Empresses we’ve had. Campbell carries a private journal. Once you’ve eliminated him, get the journal, because we think it contains Emily’s location. Recovering her is obviously critical. Assuming… well, it’s critical. We’ll also look into what we can do for Corvo. That’s the gist of it. Strike true, Jessamine. Make sure you talk to Piero on your way out, he’ll have some gear for you. Oh, and another thing, Campbell is holding a former Overseer, by the name of Martin. He’s one of us and if you can manage to find him, give him whatever help you can. He’s a master strategist, and he got caught working for our cause. It’d be good to have him back here at the Hound Pits." 

… 

"Piero?" 

The buzzing of Piero’s drill ceased, the man adjusting his glasses as the Empress stepped into his workshop. "Ah, Jessamine. Good morning. Havelock gave you your first assignment, yes? I’m happy to say I’ve finished my work to supply you for it. Your weapons are in the trunk on Samuel’s boat, the standard pistol, a folding knife and crossbow of my own design. There are bullets and bolts both regular, sleeping and incendiary along with it. But come here, and see my greatest work!"

She came forward at his beckoning, and he picked the metal lump he was working on from underneath the drill to hold up in front of her. "An assassin’s mask. The admiral thinks that people won’t recognize you, but I still have my fears. Some people are more perceptive than others, and why take the chance when you can be fully hidden. I designed it myself, this mask will mean terror to your enemies. Would you mind putting it on? I need to make a few adjustments." 

The mask itself was grim, skeletal and cobbled together from mismatched bits. The inside was lined with red fabric, and fit snug onto Jessamine’s head. "It’s very… morbid, Piero.”

A screwdriver was put to her face, Piero making his adjustments. “Well, that was the point. You need to look like death. I’m glad it came out this way. Can you see normally? Mmm… center lens out of alignment. There. Better now?” Satisfied by her nod of affirmation, Piero turned his back to fiddle further with his inventions, a "good luck, Jessamine!" thrown over his shoulder as she left his workshop. No sooner than she had a foot out and near the docks a woman, wearing a maid’s uniform no different than Lydia’s, approached her.

“Hello, Empress? Admiral Havelock said it was you. I’m Callista. I work here for the Admiral. I’m sorry to intrude on your business, but this is important.” The woman, Callista, spoke in a hurried, distressed tone. The Empress guided her to the side, removed her mask to speak freely. “It’s no trouble, Callista, but please, you can call me Jessamine. Tell me, what troubles you?”

Callista wrought her hands together. “I suspect you’re going to kill the High Overseer, that wretched man. There’s really no reason for you to listen to me, but my uncle, Geoff Curnow, still serves as captain in the City Watch." 

"Curnow? I remember him. He was a good man, as I recall." 

Callista squeezed her hands further together. "He is a good man, Jessamine, and my only family. The chatter in servant circles is that Campbell just took delivery of an exotic poison, and I think I know why. My uncle’s not corruptible like the rest of them. Campbell is going to poison my uncle. Do you think you could protect him. You know he’s a good man, and you are a good woman. If you can, can you prevent that from happening?”

Jessamine reafixed the mask. “I will try, Callista. I would let no man fall at the cost of other’s corruption as I so did. Samuel is waiting for me, and I’ll have news for you when I return." 

Callista sighed, clutched her hands near her heart and looked Jessamine in the eyes. "Thank you for trying, at least. I wish you the best of fortunes, miss, and for you to return safe and with good news." 

…

The Distillery District was more overcast than Jessamine remembered, due perhaps to the rain or the fact that Jessamine no longer saw it with the same outlook she had when she realized she was still alive. The engine on the boat sputtered along, Samuel edging closer to the shore. "It’ll be a rough trip. Used to be you’d go straight up Clavering Boulevard, but now it’s not so easy.” He kept one hand on the control, the other pulling the edges of his jacket tighter against him.

Jessamine’s own hands gripped the blade at her side, the weight of weapons on her person along with the Heart in her pocket a feeling she had yet to grow used to. “Why’s that, Samuel? The Plague?”

The boatman craned his neck, eyes cast over the river and scanning for rocks that would be present this close to the shore. “Partially. Half the city’s dead of the Plague, the other half’s fighting over what’s left. The City Watch still holds the bigger streets, and set up those Wall of Light checkpoints. A man walks through one of those and he ends up burned to a crisp. Everything not controlled by City Watch is gang territory. Then there are the real odd birds living on the fringes, like that Granny Rags. They say she’s nuts.”

“I think I met Granny Rags. She helped me find you."

Samuel shrugged. “Well, you still have the gangs and City Watch. I dunno which is worse. Just take your pick. Samuel maneuvered the boat onto the small corner of shore that Jessamine found him at the previous evening. "I’ll come get you near the docks in the Abbey’s backyards. Good luck, Jess." 

It was easy enough for Jessamine to skulk from the docks onto the streets. She was as noticeable as any other worker, that is to say, not very. Guards on the walkway above her tossed corpses into the river, laughing at the misfortune of the people they once were. The Heart ticked gently in Jessamine’s pocket, it’s voice wriggling softly into her mind. 

_"Guards don’t care, never care… not unless it can benefit them…_

_why_

_why am I so cold?”_

The voice it spoke in could be no older than 15, and the way the Outsider described it- “The heart of a living thing molded by my hands”- was nauseatingly curious to Jessamine. But, she pushed it from her mind. She had a job to do, and planned to do it. Guards paced to and from on the mainstreets, too dangerous for her to walk down. An alley would be better, off to the side. Granny Rags lived near an alley, did she not? She seemed kindly enough, what harm would there be in checking in on her? 

…

The door to Granny Rags’s home was unlocked. Odd. Granny Rags had to unlock it last time. Jessamine cracked it, sliding into the entrance hall and removing the mask Piero gave her. Best not to scare such an old woman. A voice, light and creaky, rang out in song from the kitchen: 

“Granny, granny, granny! Come out with me instead! Granny, granny granny! You can’t because your dead!" 

Jessamine could see Granny Rags's back when she peeked in the kitchen, as she was preoccupied with something in the sink. The woman turned from her work when she heard Jessamine’s footsteps, hands lifting from the sink and picking up a tattered cloth to wipe them on. "Oh, hello dear. Did you come to visit your granny?” She put her hands over her heart, smiling in an almost melancholic way at the younger woman.

Jessamine tucked the mask into her jacket. “I just wanted to thank you, for helping me. I’ve found some people to help me find my friend and daughter, and I don’t think I could have gotten there without you.”

Granny Rags shook her head, turning to scavenge around her kitchen. “Oh, don’t thank me, love. Granny was happy to help him, but he helped you more, the Outsider did.” She retrieved a package, what she was scrounging for, and placed it into Jessamine’s hands. “I should get back to work, I’m making food for the birdies, you see, but this might help you a little bit.” A delicate hand, brittle as paper, reached out and petted Jessamine’s hair, before Granny Rags turned back to her work. 

The Heart pulsed again in Jessamine’s pocket as she pulled the brown paper wrappings away, showing the rune underneath. It glowed like the one in the Void when she held it, her muscles coiling as though she were going to “blink” from one place to the other like she did in the Void, but stronger and better, and when the feeling faded and the bone was dust in her palm, the beating did not subside. The Heart was against her ear, it’s voice the same youthful tremble.

_“Once, I would have been afraid of her, but now it appears I am not…. She has given herself fully to the Outsider."_

So Granny Rags was "chosen” by the Outsider? Like Jessamine? The Heart’s beating grew hurried near the back door, and Granny Rags wasn’t in the room. Surely she wouldn’t mind. The door creaked open, a glow emanating from the curve of the steps in the yard. The Empress followed the glow to find a shrine, similar to the one in the Void, with another rune sitting on a pedestal. Again, the rune crumbled in Jessamine’s hand, her eyes burning with the same sensation she felt in the Void, and like the “blink” spell was improved, so was her vision in the dark. Shadow swirled around the shrine, and the Outsider brought himself forth. 

“Be careful, Jessamine, around Granny Rags. You wouldn’t recognize her real name, or even the name of her family, but an Emperor begged for her hand once, and rich young men fought each other for her favor. I watched her consider them all, measure their worth, and find them wanting. Then, she made a different choice." 

The Heart was nestled still and silent once more in Jessamine’s pocket. "So she chose you? Or made the choice to accept you?”

The Outsider’s mouth twitched at the corners again. “Perceptive, dear Empress. Granny Rags accepted me as you so suspect."   
  
"Is that to happen to me? Senility and living in a shadow of my glory? I am grateful she helped me, but I’m not eager to share her fate." 

The Outsider’s arms rested behind his back. "Granny Rags chose her fate. I can imagine that you’ll choose yours as well. What choices you make, however, are to be decided by you." 

"You’re cryptic, Outsider. I wonder how the Abbey overlooked that." 

He grinned again at Jessamine. "How astute. Speaking of which, you’re on your way to face the High Overseer, are you not? The leader of a great cult dedicated to loathing me. What will you do, I wonder?” He dispersed himself again, living up to Jessamine’s accusations and leaving her to go about her business for his amusement. 

… 

Clavering Boulevard proved challenging for Jessamine. While blinking from place to place, far from the seeing eyes of the City Guard, was easy, it was also exhausting. Not physically, but in a manner that felt like an ache in her soul. She might not have made it, if not for Griff, a salesman grateful for her… incapacitation of several thugs harassing him, grateful enough not to ask who she is or why she had sleep darts on her, just took her money when she wanted the vials of Piero’s Remedy that he kept in his shop. The Wall of Light, however, proved the greatest feat to conquer, waiting for thugs hanging around the side streets to move on so she could get through them, and blinking from behind railings to avoid more guard. Finally, she was able to enter Holger Square.

The stocks. This is where the stocks where kept and where that Martin fellow Havelock mentioned would probably be. Jessamine backed near a wall, hiding from view and making sure no Overseers were near. There was one standing in front of a stock, mocking the man in it. 

“Hello, Martin. I hear the second day is when the skin really starts to come all the way off. Is that true? Or is it the itching that really gets you? Or the rats?”

So the man in the stock was Martin. She would have to get the Overseer out of the way somehow. Corvo had once shown Emily a choke hold, Tyvian if she remembered right, and never before had the Empress been so thankful for her daughter’s tomboyish play habits. The Overseer was still distracted by Martin, who was nonplussed by his taunts. Jessamine tread carefully, crouched, up to the Overseer’s back

“Jasper, isn’t it? It’s not so bad in here, except I miss your wife." 

Before Jasper could retort, Jessamine grabbed him, forearm to his throat, choking the air from his windpipe. Jasper fell to the ground with a strangled breathe, alive but unconscious. 

Martin looked her over from the imprisonment. 

"So, who are you? I mean, besides my savior, the sight you are in that mask. Did Havelock send you? He said was sending someone to deal with Campbell, but he didn’t say who." 

Jessamine found the latch for the stocks, released it, and Martin’s wrists and neck were freed. She pulled the mask away from her face and stood in front of him. 

"Jessamine Kaldwin." 

Martin rolled his eyes, rubbed his wrists. "Sure. And I’m Anton Sokolov."

She stared him down until his eyes widened and he realized she was being sincere. "By the Void, you’re serious! Hmm. Havelock believes you? And Pendleton too?" 

Jessamine slipped the mask back on. "Havelock, Pendleton, Piero, each and every servant at the pub and Samuel as well. Why would someone pretend to be a dead woman?" 

"True. I suppose that Mark on your hand might have something to do with it? I can look the other way, don’t worry." He adjusted his gloves, covering the redness of his wrists from the restraints. "So, Empress. Or rather, Jessamine. You’re not Empress anymore. Anyway, I can understand your reason for working with the loyalists.” He rotated his shoulder, stretched his neck. “What you’re here to do tonight is of the highest importance. We’ve got to find Emily, so kill Campbell and make it quick. Once it’s done, search his body for the journal- his notorious black book- and get out of there. Campbell is meeting with a guard named Curnow, and word from my informant is that Campbell is going to poison him. Maybe you can use that to your advantage. I won’t be of any help here, so I’ll make my own way back to the Hound Pits Pub. May all the spirits guide you and may our enemy’s head hit the floor without you taking a scratch." 

…

The Office of the High Overseer was in the Abbey, heavily guarded, and Jessamine had more than a few scares getting into the doorway. Enough Overseers were gossiping below her, about something called the Heretic’s Brand, that she could Blink and stick to shadows to make her way through. The Heretic’s Brand, what was that exactly? The thought of spilling blood made her ill, and if there was another way to deal with Campbell, that would be preferable. Overseers monitored the Abbey’s halls, preaching and answering questions of citizens. The Heart awoke once more. 

_"I have never liked the clergy… so eager to cast off the downtrodden for their own gain… misery and corruption fill their halls."_

It quivered, stilled in her pocket as a guarding Overseer turned his back and Jessamine was able to climb the stairs. She had four sleep bolts left on her person, and she blinked, her vision shifting to observe five Overseers patrolling the hallway through the walls. Corvo’s choke hold was effective on two, but Jessamine was an Empress, not a protector, and she could feel the ache in her muscles as soon as the second hit the floor. Three bolts spent, and the halls were clear. 

The High Overseer’s office was empty, no sign of Campbell or Curnow. She had time. With no Overseers to impede her, she found the archives, were the Overseers kept their records. Something about this Brand must be here. Books on shelves, organized by subject, and one such category was for heresy. One such book, the spine emblazoned with  _On Branding Heretics_ in gold lettering, caught her attention. She grabbed it, held tight to it, and retreated to Campbell’s office, hiding behind a screen and cracking the tome open: 

_The Heretic Brand is reserved for those Overseers who have committed heinous acts against the order, but have not broken codes that would otherwise result in execution. No contact, aid or shelter can be given to one bearing the brand; that person is forevermore unwelcome to the Abbey and its affiliates._

_When used, the brand is applied to the forehead, so all can see the sins of the recipient. The chemical compound acts immediately, scarring the heretic for the remainder of life._

_The Interrogation Room here at the Office of the High Overseer stands ready for branding ritual, should the need arise. The recipient must be strapped into the interrogation chair and restrained as the brand is applied. The Heretic Brand itself is to be stored in the same room._

Appalling. That the Abbey could act so cruelly was simply appalling. The Heart’s words rang in Jessamine’s thoughts, no sign still of Campbell and Curnow. That was right. He was to be poisoned and she couldn’t let Callista down. Two glasses of wine, one most likely poisoned, sat on the table in the center of the room. Footsteps echoed distant in the nearby halls, and swiftly, the Empress retreated from her hiding spot and spilled the contents of the glasses in the floor before taking cover and waiting for the door to open. 

"I trust your trip was uneventful? I hear the Watch is having trouble holding the side streets." 

That was Campbell’s voice, she recognized it, bile churning in her stomach. She trusted him, he reminded Emily to read her Scriptures and he betrays her, sells her out to the Lord Regent. Death would be too kind for him, he needed to suffer. He needed to lose everything like Jessamine did, and he would not get it back. 

"A bunch of children playing games, that’s all it is." 

That must be Geoff. The toppled glasses probably won’t be enough to halt Campbell. He’ll still try to kill the man. That can’t happen, not to him, not to Callista. 

"Good, good. And your niece- Callista, isn’t it? I’m very concerned about her." 

Sure. Like he was concerned for Emily, until he could profit from her absence. 

"She’ll be found. My men are searching district by district. Callista’s a resourceful one. Probably found a safe space to hole up in all this chaos." 

The doorknob clicked, Jessamine could see the polished wood swinging open from between slats in the screen she hid behind. 

"If my Overseers hear any word I’ll come straight to you. Ah, but enough of that. Time for drinks! I hope you won’t refuse. It’ll make this business pass all the quicker." 

Campbell glanced towards the glasses, eyes narrowing at the mess. 

"What on- who’s been in here? I owe you an apology, Captain. This is hardly the hospitality I planned for you.” He turned to Curnow, hand gesturing to guide him from the office. “Never mind. It’s a stroke of luck for you, Captain. I’ll have to pull out the real vintage. Leave the men here, or we’ll have to share with all of them." 

Curnow followed Campbell from the room, no doubt into some trap of the Overseer’s. Jessamine followed suit, refusing to let him lay a hand on Geoff. 

…

Campbell led Curnow to the basements, pressed a statue’s eye to reveal a room hidden behind the stone walls, ushering Curnow inside. Jessamine followed them, crossbow in hand, inside the chamber. 

The chamber itself was lavish, dressed in velvets, a curio case filled with trinkets and books in one corner and in another, Jessamine noticed a mattress, with what appeared to be a courtesan’s underwear on it. Disgusting. The Heart gave another quiver. 

_"The High Overseer pays a price… lives have been expended for his indulgences… his lifestyle destroys the lives of others…"_

Even more disgusting. 

Campbell directed Curnow to a portrait on the wall. "Ah, you see this painting? Believed to be an early Sokolov. Something primal in there, the way the brush work slashes across the canvas.” Curnow approached it, observant, and that’s when Campbell drew his sword. 

Jessamine fired the sleep bolt before he had a chance to raise it. 

Curnow turned, alarmed at both the thud of Campbell’s body and the metallic noise of the blade hitting the floor, before he noticed Jessamine putting her weapon away. 

Shaken, but safe, Curnow stammered out a thank you and a "I'll look this way, just once" to Jessamine before leaving the chamber, her to retrieve Campbell’s journal, tucked safely near the Heart. 

But there was still the matter of Campbell. Jessamine hoisted up his sleeping body, arm over her shoulder, and prepared to trek up the stairs with the much heavier than she expected man. 

…

Exhausted, but satisfied, Jessamine exited the Abbey and snuck to Samuel by the docks. Even now, she could still hear the way Campbell screamed when she put the brand to his face, a guttural cry marked by the smell of searing flesh before the pain overwhelmed him and he passed out. She was sickened, but part of Jessamine felt satisfaction at his suffering. He deserved, and his guilt relieved Jessamine of any she might have had at relishing another person's pain. 

Samuel stood at the docks, smoking, and extinguished his cigarette when he saw her coming, waving her over with his now free hand. “Jess! It’s Samuel! Over here!" He climbed in the boat, holding out his hand to aid Jessamine. "Everything go alright?"

Jessamine climbed into the boat, feeling oddly serene. "Yes. I branded Campbell as a heretic and got out without being seen." Samuel piloted away from shore and to the pub. 

"Glad you got out of there safe. You know, from the way I hear it, Campbell lived a pretty posh life. Maybe it’s not my place to say, but men of the faith shouldn’t live like barons." 

In the back of her mind, her thoughts stilled and satisfied, Jessamine faintly mulled over the idea of Samuel as a clergyman. He was far too kind for that. 

…

Havelock and Pendleton were in the courtyard when Jessamine returned, Havelock practising aim with his pistol while Pendleton drank and observed. Callista approached her first, however.

"He’s alive!” She gushed, eyes watering. “Thank you, Miss Kaldwin, thank you! My uncle’s a good man, and one day he’ll prove it.” She pushed a trinket into Jessamine’s hands as reward, an heirloom she said, and Jessamine pushed it back. “I didn’t do this for pay, Callista. I did this for you.”

Callista wiped a tear from the corner of each eye with the back of her hand. “I can never thank you enough, ma'am. The Admiral was right in recruiting you. Nothing’s been the same since the Lord Regent took power, but at Campbell is gone and my uncle lived. I won’t mention my knowledge of any of this, but he will wonder why I’m smiling." 

Havelock was loading the gun when Jessamine approached. "You did it, Jessamine.” He holstered his weapon, turned to her as Pendleton put his flask away. “Somehow you took down the High Overseer Campbell against the odds. With Campbell gone we hurt the Lord Regent immeasurably, and with Martin back we’ll have the finest strategist alive.”

Pendleton adjusted his coat. “The Lord Regent must be shitting himself in Dunwall Tower.”

Havelock turned back to him. “Yes, and Campbell’s journal, let’s not forget. Our hope is that, somewhere in these encoded pages, the location of Emily can be discovered. We must act fast. Time is against us." 

Jessamine passed the journal to Havelock. "Will you be able to find Corvo too?" 

Havelock thumbed the pages. "I've had an ear out. I should know by tonight. But you should take a rest. I'm sure you're exhausted and you've earned it. Pendleton and I will let you know our findings tomorrow."

 

…

Jessamine didn’t dream of the Void that night, but Emily. Of her, safe, and with Corvo, away from the Pendletons, the Lord Regent, and a scarred Campbell. It was the most peaceful sleep she had in ages. 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jessamine is informed of the locations of both Corvo and Emily, and rescues Corvo from execution.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My personal headcanon is that Corvo is selectively mute, and the only people he'll talk to are Jessamine and Emily, so that's gonna be a thing in this fic. Also sorry that this isn't as long (or as good) as other chapters but I'll be real: School has been running me ragged and I am So Tired all the time.

 The sounds of Cecilia and Lydia's cleaning roused Jessamine from sleep, rolling over on the lumpy bed to see sunlight flowing in from the dusty window. She sat up, retrieving the band and comb sitting on table near the bed so she could tie her hair back before putting on her coat. Lydia and Cecilia greeted her as she descended the stairs to exit the bar, Havelock and Pendleton standing near the sewer just outside the door.

"Good morning, gentlemen. Something wrong?"

Havelock turned his head, scratching the back of his neck while Pendleton continued to grimace towards the gutter. 

"Good morning, Jessamine. I hate to start your day with such a strange matter, but the servants heard something last night, moving in the storm drains beneath the building. Most likely a Weeper, the poor bastard." 

Jessamine was familiar with Weepers, those in advanced stages of the plague, husks of their former selves riddled with disease and spreading pestilence until their death. Her physician took great care administering elixer and vitamins to keep her health perfect so as to ensure she never even risked contracting the plague, lest she become one of these woeful souls.

"A Weeper? Do you plan to do something with them? Their final moments shouldn't be spent in a sewer." 

Havelock shook his head. "I'd send a servant down there, but they'd die of fright. Don't suppose you'd be willing to investigate?" 

"I can try. I have some sleep poison in darts for the crossbow Piero gave me. I can put them to sleep, if you'd like to move them somewhere else later?"

"That'd be fine. We're still waiting on Martin to join us, and by the time you're back he'll probably be here. Keep safe down there." 

...

Two bolts, two bodies dragged off and sat up on a wall for Havelock to find, and Jessamine's business with the Weepers in the storm drains, and hopefully Weepers all together, was finished. Cecilia was sweeping near the stairs when she exited the sewers, giving a startled jump when she saw Jessamine coming. 

"You went down there in the sewers? I thought I heard a Weeper in there earlier. You're probably the bravest woman I ever met." She gripped her broom's handle tighter. "Oh, er, Overseer Martin has arrived. He's with Admiral Havelock now. They want to talk to you." 

Jessamine smiled as warmly as she could. "Thank you for telling me, Cecilia. I'll go right now. Have a nice day." 

"Y... yes, miss! You have a nice day too, miss!" 

Martin and Havelock stood near a table in the main area of the pub, Havelock with a beer glass in hand while Martin kept his arms crossed over his chest. Both turned to address Jessamine as she approached. 

"Jessamine! I trust you remember Martin." He gestured toward Martin with the hand holding his drink, the frothy head sloshing about in the glass. "An Overseer before and perhaps again, some day soon." 

Martin shrugged his shoulders and nodded in her direction. "I owe you thanks for my rescue."

Havelock took a sip of his beer, licking foam from his upper lip. "Indeed, you've given us a glimmer of hope, Jessamine, because we've gotten what we wanted from Campbell's journal." 

Jessamine perked up at this. "You mean you know where Emily is? Is she safe?" Martin was the one to answer, averting his eyes and scratching his jaw. 

"The Golden Cat, of all places. A bathhouse for aristocrats. Little better than a cursed brothel." 

Havelock spoke up now. "But, there's an unfortunate twist. It appears that Pendleton's own kinsmen stand in our way." 

"Do you mean the twins? Morgan and Custis?" Jessamine remembered them from both political matters and her dream of the void. Smug, self-congratulating men, who apparently kept her daughter captive in a house of pleasure.

"Indeed. Not only are they controlling Emily, but they have the controlling parliamentary votes we so desperately need." 

As Havelock approached a tap to refill his glass, Martin picked up where he left off. "Yes, the Pendletons have to die." He shook his head, inhaling deeply with a somber expression on his face. "But Emily must be brought here safely so we can protect her until the Lord Regent and his entourage have been dealt with. I don't have to tell you how important that." 

"No, you don't. What about Corvo? Do you know where he is?" 

"Havelock and I looked into it, and you might want to rescue aid first. He's scheduled to be executed tomorrow."

"What? Where is he? Can you get me there?"

"He's being kept in Coldridge Prison. You should be able to get in and out through the sewers."

...

The sewers. Of course it'd be more sewers. How many times must Jessamine traipse through waste in one day? This one contained guards, and even a tripwire trap, but it would all be worth it if she could get to Corvo. 

But it wasn't easy. She had to swim through dirty water, make her way past carnivorous rats feasting on corpses, and get past one too many guards to get through to the courtyard. It was easy enough to blink through the open door, past guards making their rounds in and out of it, but she still needed to get to Corvo's cell block. 

It had to be around here somewhere. She had made it past the control room, the prison yard, and couldn't bring herself to enter the interrogation room. The winding turns of the yard walkway seemed endless to Jessamine, made worse by her panicking over Corvo. He couldn't die like this, blamed for a crime he didn't commit. Corvo wasn't able to speak to anyone besides Jessamine and Emily, he couldn't even defend himself against the accusations. Coming to the end of another hall, Jessamine blinked, observing the illuminated figures that paced through her now darkened vision. Outside the door were three men, the silhouettes of blades at their sides. Guards, it would seem, and past them was a block of cells, but the men she saw in them were all nondescript, and she couldn't tell if one was Corvo. This block had more guards to it, more attention given to it, and perhaps this was death row? It was worth a try. 

She blinked herself onto the rafters above the guards, above their field of vision, pausing only when she heard them strike up conversation to lighten up a dull shift. 

"How come so many people are coming to the execution tomorrow?" 

"It's on a count of Corvo, the one who killed the Empress and abducted her daughter Emily." 

"So it's an occasion?" 

"Right. Social event for the high and mighty. Come see the noble Lord Protector get his head chopped off." 

"They're as bad as us bettin' on the dog fights." 

That wasn't going to happen. Not if Jessamine could help it. She crawled past them, shifting from her position on the rafters to behind the gate of the cell block with her arcane abilities. Several men stood in their cells, leaning against walls or sitting on stone beds, and while some looked at her with little interest, others kept their gaze away from their cell's bars. They wore the clothes of street thugs, ragged pants and stubbled chins, and none of them were Corvo. She paced down the cell block, seeing thug after thug, until she got to the last cell, suspense gripping her heart. She took a deep breath, and looked through the bars. 

And there he was. 

He was filthy, as though he hadn't had a proper bath in weeks, and his skin was sallow. A grimy blanket was wrapped around his shoulders, and he was sitting on his bunk with his legs crossed and head bowed. Greasy, unwashed hair covered his face. He was right within reach. 

He was so beautiful. 

Corvo must have noticed her presence, briefly looking up at her before returning his head to its original position. Of course he wouldn't recognize her with the mask on. He looked back up, standing, gripping the blanket around his shoulders as he padded his way closer to the cell door. His face was unshaved, covered in thick shadow, and his eyes were dull. He looked Jessamine over before jerking his head forward, looking over Jessamine's shoulder as he did so, urging her to look over it. Behind her was a table, a guard's sword and several coins sitting on it and among them was a key. Her shaking fingers snatched it up, shoving it into the lock of Corvo's cell and the sound of a lock opening had never sounded sweeter. Within seconds, the door was open. Corvo had himself backed into the corner, watching her uneasily as she stepped inside. He recoiled into his blanket when she came forward. 

"Corvo, it's me." 

His eyes widened when she slid her mask off, his blanket falling to the dirty stone floor. She felt his fingers reach out, stroke her face, her hair, and felt his lips press against hers. When he pulled back, he was shaking, eyes shining as tears built up and rolled down his gaunt cheeks. He had yet to let go of her. 

"I...it's you... it's you... it's you it's really you... Jessamine." 

He pulled back and covered his mouth with his hand, attempting to choke back a sob. 

"Oh, Jessamine. Oh, by the Void I'm so sorry. I couldn't do anything. I couldn't help you, I couldn't help Emily. I couldn't, I'm so sorry." 

This was the Corvo she knew. A worrier, same as always. She tugged on her sleeve, held it down and used it to wipe away Corvo's tears. He held her hand against his cheek, closing his eyes and breathing deeply.

"Corvo, we have to leave. I have someone waiting outside to take us somewhere safe, and when we get there, I'm going to get Emily. When she's safe, I'll tell you what happened, alright?" 

He nodded, eyes fluttering open, and he turned his head to kiss her palm. 

"And Corvo? I love you so much." He smiled, the way he used to when they were alone and Jessamine would whisper such sweet words to him. 

"I love you too."

The guards came minutes later, to nothing but an empty cell.  


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Under the guise of a woman looking to sell herself, Jessamine infiltrates the Golden Cat and rescues Emily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I'm not taking too long to post new chapters? School is really kicking my ass honestly. Also I'm glad Corvo is in the picture now because I can explore my headcanon of him being selectively mute more. Also I hope you guys are picking up on what I'm doing with the Heart...

"Jess! You're back! And you got Corvo! Good job!"

Samuel waved Jessamine over to the boat, dropping the cigarette he was smoking into the water to snuff it out. Corvo clung to Jessamine's arm, looking down at her with an eyebrow raised.

"What? Did you expect everyone to call me Empress Kaldwin still?" Corvo shook his head, grinning and goodness was that good to see again. He held onto Jessamine's hand as he stepped shakily into the dinghy. Samuel seemed nonplussed by Corvo's disheveled appearance, and greeted him with a broad smile.

"Nice to meet you, Corvo. I'm Samuel Beechworth. I'm the boatman who's been escorting Jess to and from where she needs to go. She's been doing good work, let me tell you."

Corvo nodded in Samuel's direction, replying with nothing but a polite smile and silence. Once again, Samuel was unbothered by Corvo's mannerisms. Jessamine took her turn stepping into the boat while Samuel started the engine up.

"I should have mentioned before, Samuel. Corvo isn't able to speak to anyone except me or Emily. I hope you didn't take his silence as poor manners."

Samuel laughed, revving the engine. "Don't worry about it, Jess." He turned to speak to Corvo this time. "I actually knew a fella like you back in the Navy, and let me tell you, that sonofabitch could play a mean hand of cards. He taught me a few of his tricks, maybe if you'd like we could play a hand sometime. I'm sure you could use some down time."

Corvo smiled gently in affirmation, all the while weaving his fingers between Jessamine's.

...

The Loyalists, as well as the serving staff of the Hound Pits Pub were gathered around the docks waiting for Jessamine's return with Corvo. The minute they stepped out of the boat, the servants bowed and Havelock stepped forward to shake Corvo's hand.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Lord Attano. I'm Admiral Farley Havelock. I'd like to officially welcome you to the Hound Pits Pub, home of the Loyalists." Corvo, slightly stunned by the formalities, stepped forward with mouth ajar to shake Havelock's hand. Pendleton took his turn, shaking perhaps more vigorously than he should, while Martin kept his arms crossed and remained as casual as possible.

Corvo looked towards Jessamine, lip bit and eyebrows furrowed.

"You can just call him Corvo, gentlemen. There's no need for such titles and formalities now." 

"Very well," Havelock turned and waved Callista, Cecelia, Wallace and Lydia over. "Corvo, I'd like you to meet Callista Curnow. When we rescue Emily from the Lord Regent, she'll be here to help you care for Emily, and is prepared to act as a tutor for the young lady."

Callista curtsied. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Corvo." 

"This is Wallace, Lydia, and Cecelia. Wallace is Lord Pendleton's servant, but if you ever need anything, you can call on Lydia or Cecelia." 

Lydia curtsied, while Wallace bowed and Cecelia mimicked in earnest. Corvo beamed at the three of them, bowing himself in response before Havelock continued to speak. 

"If you don't mind, Corvo, the other Loyalists and I need to speak to Jessamine for a moment. Lydia and Cecelia can draw you a bath and fix you food, if you'd like, and there's a second bed in the room we've prepared for Emily if you want some shut-eye." 

Corvo patted Havelock's shoulder in a way to convey his thanks, and walked off with the servants while Cecelia and Lydia listed off the menu of the day for him. Martin, Pendleton, and Havelock remained in the courtyard along with Jessamine. 

Havelock lit a cigarette, blowing smoke away from the group's faces. "Nice work with Corvo. I'm sure you're eager to get to Emily now." 

"Yes. Goodness, yes." 

Martin picked up the conversation while Havelock took another drag. "You need to get into the Golden Cat, take care of the twins, and get out with Emily."

"How do you propose I do that?" 

Martin tugged at his collar with an index finger. "Well, times are tough with the Plague and all. You could just walk in, a poor woman off the streets looking for employment, who'd pay attention to you besides the madame of the place. In and out, and no one's the wiser." 

"I think I could manage that." 

Havelock snuffed his cigarette under the heel of his boot. "Good. If anyone can get Emily here safely, it's you. Good luck. When you're ready, Samuel will take you to the Cat." The admiral turned to walk back into the pub while Martin followed suite. Pendleton, however, lingered with Jessamine, pulling his flask from his jacket. 

"May I have a word with you, Jessamine?" He took a sip, and left the cap off the flask in anticipation of another. 

His face was grim, and his eyes were rimmed red. "Of course, Treavor." 

"You're going to kill my older brothers. Horrible men, it's true. Cruel beyond words, and as long as they're in Parliament, we cannot gather the votes we need to stop the Lord Regent from further consolidating his power." He took another sip. "These days, they're best known for exploiting their favor with him to cheat others out of their wealth. Let's just say that not every family evicted and quarantined for having the Plague, actually has the Plague." 

"That's wretched!" 

Pendleton had capped his flask and returned it to his coat. "Indeed. I warned my brothers in every way I could, I really did. But they never did listen to me. They'll be at their usual revels tonight, and protected by the City Watch. Just..." He paused, as though searching for the right words. "... just go and do it. Do it. Before I change my mind." 

... 

"I'll get you as close as I can to the Golden Cat, Jess. You might have to go the rest of the way on your own. The entrance is near Holger Square." 

Samuel was piloting the boat to his usual docking space in the Distillery District, while Jessamine's stomach was knotted in anxiety. The boatman seemed to notice. 

"Don't you worry. I know you can get your little girl out all safe and sure. Just be careful around the old Dunwall Whiskey Factory. That's Slackjaw and his gang's territory." 

Jessamine wrung her hands in her lap. "Thank you, Samuel. I'll be careful." 

Samuel had docked the boat, stepping out first to offer a hand in helping Jessamine out. "I'll see you when you get back, alright Jess? I know Emily means a lot to ya and I'm sure she'll be a delight to meet." Samuel seemed so genuine in his assurances, the apprehension in Jessamine's gut softening slightly with his encouragement.

It didn't take many steps on Bottle Street before Jessamine was approached by a man, similar to the thugs she saw in Coldridge. Just a bit past Granny Rags's house, he stood leaning against the brick alleyway wall, before calling out to her. 

"Hey, you're just the lady I's lookin' for." His voice was gruff, but unhostile. "Slackjaw's wantin' to talk to ya." 

"About what?" 

He shrugged. "I couldn't tell ya. Just go on back to the distillery." He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder, gesturing to the back of the alley and the doorway to the factory. Two other men stood near the door, and when she approached, they told her to go on in, that Slackjaw had a message for her. 

... 

The distillery was decrepit, but in use and littered with men who lingered about smoking, and making plans to gather for cigars. Beneath the main floor, where boilers bubbled and steamed away, and amongst the whiskey barrels was Slackjaw, leaning over a desk in a makeshift office. He stood when he saw her, eyeing her from head to toe. 

"My men were right. You do look like a woman out for murder." He spoke with a thick accent and his jaw was lopsided, seemingly broken some time ago and more likely than not the cause of his namesake. 

"I'd imagine that's all I look like, the way I dress." Her audacity seemed to impress him, as he snickered at her response. 

"Aye. The boys think you're death walking. They just been calling you 'the lady'. You could be the damn empress for all they know."

Jessamine removed her mask, allowed Slackjaw to fully see her face. "I am." 

When the knowledge had sank in, Slackjaw howled with laughter, reaching for his desk drawer to pull out a bottle. "Ha! I'll be damned! C'mere then, Empress. Share some of my good stuff." He drank deeply from the bottle before passing the whiskey to Jessamine. She had almost forgotten how good Dunwall Whiskey was, and to her slight embarrassment took a bigger gulp of the drink than Slackjaw had. 

"Sharing whiskey with the Empress," he pondered, corking the bottle and putting it away, "never thought I'd be doing this in my wildest dreams." 

"I'm not an Empress anymore. Like you said, I'm just a woman out for murder." 

Slackjaw stroked his chin, expression dour now. "Aye, you are. And way I figure it, there ain't nobody 'round here worth killing except those two Pendletons over at the Golden Cat." 

Jessamine fixed her mask back on. "As a matter of fact, that's who I intend to kill." 

"See? Slackjaw knows. Them boys are rich, mean, and weird. Worse than most of their ilk. Not sure why, but they been layin' low there for awhile. You're gonna just walk in there and kill the Pendleton brothers? Maybe I gotta better way to take care of them two." 

"What's the catch?" 

"Smart woman. Someone, I don't know who, is killing my men, taking my territory, stealing my goods. Might be a fellow, name of Galvani. I sent my best man to investigate, but he went missing and, well, now I need someone to find out what happened to him. Go to this Galvani's place. He lives nearby, off Clavering Boulevard. You do that for me, and I'll get those Pendletons out of the way for ya. Not a drop of blood spilt on them pretty rugs in the Cat." 

He held out his hand, waiting for Jessamine to seal the deal. She placed her hand in his large, calloused palm. 

"Fair enough, Slackjaw. I'll be back soon." 

Slackjaw shook her hand, business-like. "Here's hopin' for good news." 

...

The Guardsmen around Galvani's home seemed to linger around the first floor, the balcony manned by only one Guard, dispatched quickly when his back was turned and he was susceptible to a hit to the head from the blunt, heavy hilt of Jessamine's blade. Inside, the staff of the home was easy enough to avoid, absorbed in their own work and discussions enough not to notice a woman ducking around the corners.

The upstairs of the home was lavish, furnished with curio cabinets and artwork, rats scurrying about the home. On the third floor was a laboratory, containing two Guardsmen standing around a table, discussing the corpse splayed on it. 

"What do you think?" the first one asked.

"I think he's dead, right?" answered the other.

"I know that. I mean, do we have suspects?" The first guard's tone was serious. He was dedicated to his job.

"Suspects? Wha... Suspects?! We ain't gonna waste time solving who killed him! Personally, I'd buy who did it a drink." The second guard was informal, a lout who only sought to collect a paycheck and a ration of elixir.

"But what are you gonna put on your report?" 

"I'm gonna say we found one of Slackjaw's men inside, all dead and bloody, and that you are a stinkin' idiot."

So the corpse on the table was Slackjaw's informant. He wouldn't be pleased at the man's death. When the two guards ceased their bickering, they split up, one going to patrol one side of the laboratory, the other the opposite side. With their backs turned on one another, a sleep bolt each picked them off, and Jessamine could safely approach the table.

An audiograph lie next to the dead man, possibly holding the information Slackjaw sought. She tucked it into her pocket, near the Heart, and was prepared to go back to the Distillery when the Heart began to beat. Pacing around the lab, the beating hastened, becoming fervent near the bookcase. Jessamine ran her hands across the books, wondering if a rune was hidden in a hollow book, and when she tugged on the spine of a large, red tome, the bookcase swung open to reveal a hidden room, where the rune sat in a curio case. It glowed in her hand, crumbling to grant her a new power. The bits of rune dropped to the floor slowly, as though time had halted to a sluggish rate, and resuming to its normal pace when every bit of bone had settled in the dust and the ability to slow time had been allocated to Jessamine. With the Heart still and the audiograph on her person, Jessamine climbed back out onto the balcony, and headed for the Distillery. 

 ... 

Jessamine found Slackjaw in a room off to the side of the entrance to the Distillery, fittingly enough near an audiograph player. Pulling the message from her coat, she passed it to Slackjaw, with an offer of condolences. 

"What's this? Information from my missing guys?"

"Yes. I'm sorry to say I found your man dead." 

Slackjaw crossed his arms, shook his head and looked pain. "Too bad. Crowley was one of my best men. I'll have a listen to this later, but you and me had a deal, didn't we? Slackjaw never goes back on a deal. I'll take care of them Pendletons for ya."

"What do you intend to do to them?" 

"Shave their heads, cut out their tongues and stick 'em in their own stinking mines. Cruel, but fitting, don't ya think? No one will ever see them again." 

"Thank you, then. You're saving me a mess of trouble." 

Slackjaw placed his hands on his hips. "See that? Slackjaw keeps a bargain, just as good as them men who run the city. Maybe a little better. You think about that. If you're ever need steady work, you come see me. Slackjaw knows a good woman when he sees one."

...

With her mask tucked into her coat and her shawl wrapped around her head, Jessamine Kaldwin entered the Golden Cat. She gave a quick muss of her hair and a pinch of her cheeks to make sure she looked like a disheveled civilian, keeping her head down and avoiding eye contact. There's a courtesan near the doorway, dressed in an ill-fitting brassiere and ruffled skirt, leaning against the wall with an unlit cigarette hanging between her painted lips and she removes it briefly to speak to Jessamine. 

"Hey there, sweetie. If you're looking to buy, I've got a client in a few minutes so you'll have to talk to another girl. If you're looking to sell, go up the stairs to Prudence's office. She's the madame. Always looking for another skin to shove." 

The cigarette goes back between her lips, and she steadies herself with a hand on the wall to fish around in her boot. 

"I'm looking for work. You said the madame's office is upstairs?" 

The woman nods, a lock of hair falling from behind her ear. "Yeah. Can't miss it. Say, you got a match on ya? I need a light before I get back at it." 

Jessamine shakes her head, reaches into her own pocket to retrieve a coin of five for the woman. "I don't have any on me, but here. If you get a chance you can buy yourself a matchbook with this." 

The courtesan's fingers trace over the Jessamine's when she reaches for the coin, gently, an intimate show of gratitude offered from a woman not used to such kindness. "Thanks, sister. For what it's worth I hope you get the job. You deserve coin in your pocket." 

She slips the coin into her boot when Jessamine turns to leave, calling to another courtesan in hopes for a match. The Heart flutters about in Jessamine's pocket.

_"They ship them in from farming villages. Bastard daughters and extra mouths that can't be fed... I once sought work in a house of pleasure..._

_... too bony, they said, had other boys, healthy boys, who did the job better, they said..."_  

It stilled, thankfully, as Jessamine walked past two more courtesans sitting together on a couch, one in a corset, the other in a sheer lace dress, gossiping about their clients in a moment of solace. These poor women. If there was something she could have done as Empress to help them, she wished she had known. But for now, there was nothing she could do but hope that they were treated well.

Up the stairs, oddly ramshackle compared to the rest of the bathhouse, and near an ornate poster for the establishment was the madame's office. Jessamine rapt her knuckles on the door. 

"What? Who is it?" she barked through the lacquered wood. 

"Madame Prudence? I was hoping to speak to you. I'm looking for work." 

The door creaked open, the woman opening it an ornery older woman with red hair and gaudy makeup. "Don't just stand there, then. Come in, come in. Let me get a look at you." 

Jessamine closed the door behind her while the madame went to stand behind her desk, puffing on the end of a cigarette holder. She gave a phlegmy cough when she exhauled. "Alright, love. Take off your jacket and let me see your figure." 

Jessamine obliged in the charade, leaving herself exposed for the old woman's scrutiny. "Seen bigger busts in my day, but someone'll pay for them, I'd bet. Lift your shirt then. Not all the way, just gotta see your belly." 

When the skin was shown, the madame's eyebrows raised. "Where'd you get that scar?" 

Lowering her shirt in embarrassment, Jessamine responded with "I was stabbed." The madame cackled.

"Heh! Found someone to stitch you up good, then. 'sides that you're not too skinny. You'd get some work. Go on upstairs, then. Have another girl get you some clothes and then we'll get you on the ledger." She turned her back on Jessamine to search through her files, and on her belt hung a large, brass key. If Emily is being kept here, she might be locked in one of the rooms. They wouldn't just keep her in some sort of closet or cellar would they? Gathering arcane energy in her fist, Jessamine brought time to near halt, and plucked the key from the madame's belt. When the spell released, the madame was none the wiser, and Jessamine shrugged on her coat, thanking her for her time to head upstairs to the courtesan's quarters.

The quarters themselves were solitary, only a few rooms in a small hallway, clustered together away from the main portion of the building. Blinking, Jessamine observed the rooms. One contained a woman sitting at a vanity, fixing her hair, while a second woman laced her corset up while sitting on a bed. In the second room, a small figure sat sulking on a floor. Emily. It had to be Emily. The door was locked, of course, and with help from the madame's key it swung open, and there her daughter was. 

Emily looked up, trembling. "Mommy? Mommy it's you!" 

She ran to Jessamine, burying her face in her mother's shirt and sobbing. 

"Mommy, they told me you were dead! I... I saw you... I saw it... Mommy... please don't go again..." she wept. Jessamine put her hand on her daughter's head and stroked her hair, like she used to. 

"Hush, darling. It's ok. Mommy's here. Are you hurt?" 

Emily wiped her nose on her sleeve. "No. I don't like it here, though. The old lady who's the boss here is mean. She calls me a brat. There's a lady who brings me food sometimes and she's nice. She's pretty and sometimes she brings me sweet biscuits to eat while she tells me stories. She tells me that she has friend she loves who has the plague, but she's something called 'asymptomatic' so she acts normal. Isn't that sad? Can we go back to the tower? Maybe the doctor has a cure and we can help her friend." 

Jessamine removed her shawl, wrapped it around around Emily's head. "I'm sorry, sweetie. We can't go back to the tower. The Spymaster wanted to hurt mommy so he could take the city from her, and I've found some people who want to hurt him back. We're going to stay with them." 

Emily pulled on the shawl, used it to dry her tears. "Are they nice?" 

"They're very nice, love. Corvo's there too. He'll be so happy to see you, and there's a woman named Callista who will help him look after you, and a man named Piero who invents things and a man named Samuel who drives the boat, and he's waiting for us by the docks to take us back." 

"Alright, mommy. Let's go. I want to see Corvo again." 

...

Samuel was already sitting in the boat when Jessamine and Emily reached the docks, shuffling through a deck of cards in his lap, discarding them to stand up when he saw them coming. 

"I knew you could do it, Jess!" He turned to Emily, bowing in an exaggerated way that made Emily giggle. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Emily." 

"Emily, this is Samuel. He drives the boat."

Samuel offered his hand out to help Emily in the boat, who seemed delighted by a ride along the river. "Really? Were you in the Navy? Did you ever see any pirates or sea monsters?" Samuel gave a laugh as Jessamine stepped in after her daughter.

"Indeed I was! I got lots of stories to tell, and we'll have plenty of time to tell them on the way back to the pub. Now, which story would you like to hear first? The time we got in a brawl with Tyvian corsairs, or the time a whale, pure white, breached right near our ship?" 

And so, the young lady sat cuddled in her mother's lap, the trip to the Hound Pits passed with wild tales of buccaneers and outlaws, the first true moment of calm the two have had in longer than they'd care to think about. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jessamine retrieves a very compliant Anton Sokolov.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yikes @ myself for taking so long on this

Emily bounced in her seat in excitement as Samuel's boat glided towards the dock of the Hound Pits Pub. The servants, Loyalist, and Corvo stood outside in await for her. Corvo was closest, as impatient as Emily. 

"There he is! Mommy, there he is! There's Corvo!" Emily stood abruptly to wave to Corvo, wobbling and causing Jessamine to instinctively reach out and hold her daughter steady by her waist. 

Corvo rocked on his heels, smiling and waving back to Emily. As soon as the boat was docked, Emily dashed toward Corvo, who scooped her up in his arms, twirled her around, and peppered her chubby cheeks with kisses.

"Corvo, stop it! Your face is fuzzy! You're tickling me!" She giggled, arms wrapped around his neck in a tight, loving hug. Pulling back from the affections, Corvo stood and waved his hand to the direction of Callista. 

"Young Lady Emily, I'm Callista. I'll help Corvo care for you and give you school lessons while you're with us." Callista bowed, a motion mimicked by Emily. 

"Please to meet you." She responded in what Jessamine recognized as the voice she put on when she wanted to appear "regal". 

"As am I. Would you like Corvo and I to show you to your room in the tower?" Emily perked up at that comment, turning to Corvo with wide eyes. 

"Really? A tower? Can I see it, please Corvo?" He nodded and smiled at Callista. 

"Yes, you may. You'll get to see it all, the entirety of the Hound Pits." 

Emily clung to Corvo's hand. "Good. I think I'll like it here." She turned to call back to her mother. "I'll go with Callista and Corvo, mother. I'll see you later." Still clutching to her protector, she skipped off towards the Pub, cheerfully chatting with Callista. Havelock took her departure as an opportunity to approach Jessamine. 

"You don't fail to impress. Armed with a blade, you've changed the course of a city forever, and with the Pendleton twins gone, our own Lord Pendleton will assume their votes in parliament." He reached out to vigorously shake her hand and pat her shoulder in congratulation. "In one night, you've done more than most men do in a lifetime." 

"Well, maybe it helps that I'm not a man." Jessamine joked in reply, causing Havelock to let out a rumbling chuckle. 

"It just might, Jessamine, it just might. Anyway, I need to speak to you soon, but for now Lord Pendleton requests your attention."

Lord Pendleton, as it were, was standing on the deck of the pub's tower, smoking and looking contemplatively out at the horizon. At the sound of Jessamine's approach, he turned to face her.

"Jessamine. The Loyalist Conspiracy thanks you for your work. And I, well..." He takes a drag off his cigarette, exhaling a plume of smoke with a sigh. "I've been informed by my contacts that you managed to get rid of my brothers without killing them. And I want to thank you. It doesn't matter that they're miserable right now, just that I might get to see them again one day. I know this business with them hasn't been pleasant, but you've done me a great favor. Here." He passes a small yet heavy coinpurse into Jessamine's hands. "I cached in a gold ingot or two. It's small compared to what I feel you deserve, but maybe you can buy Emily a nice new dress." 

"Treavor, I didn't do this for money." 

He snuffs the cigarette out under his heel. "I know. But I wish not to discuss this further. Just accept my gratitude, and let us move on. I'm sure Havelock's looking for you." Jessamine tucked the purse into her coat's pocket, leaving Lord Pendleton to lean over the railing of the deck as he lit a new cigarette and continued to gaze at the river's edge.

Havelock sat at a table in the pub with Overseer Martin, waving Jessamine over as she walked in. 

"Martin's devised our next move." He said as she came close enough to the table. "There's a footnote in Campbell's journal that tells us the Lord Regent's mistress sat for a portrait with Sokolov. He'll be able to give us her name." 

"You think he'd believe it's really me?" 

Martin almost choked on the whiskey he had went to sip on. "Pfft! The man has such an unrequited love for the Outsider, he'd believe anything if the Outsider was behind it, even a supposedly dead woman on his doorstep." Martin's eyes were fixed on Jessamine's left hand. 

"He respected you too, Jessamine. I don't think you'd have to do anything unsavory to get him on our side." Chimed in Havelock.

"Alright. When should I head out?" 

"Right away, unfortunately. We've already told Samuel, and he's out and ready to take you to Kaldwin's Bridge." 

...

It was strange to see Kaldwin's Bridge again. What was once a familiar locale now seemed so foreign to Jessamine, so empty. Jessamine had visited the bridge several times before, but now it was less for leisure and socializing and more for grave business.

Samuel, perceptive as always, noticed her dampened spirits. "I imagine this isn't the happiest visit you've had to the bridge." 

"No, it isn't." 

"Well, make sure you're careful. See all them lights on the water?" 

Round patches of light were cast on the river's water. "Are those spotlights?" 

Samuel nodded. "That's right. We'll be spotted for sure. You're gonna have to shut off their power before I can pick you up." Samuel eased his way into the dock. 

"I'll be careful, Samuel. Don't worry." 

Samuel smiles at her as he shuts the engine off. "You know I will, Miss. I'll meet you at the arches under Sokolov's place when you're ready. Assuming, of course, you've taken care of those flood lights."

Making her way through the rows of apartments proved more tedious than she thought, city guards swarming the streets like plague rats. She took refuge in a run down apartment, to catch her breath and drink an elixir, and in the corner sat a shrine. A jittery man knelt in front of it, praying, oblivious to Jessamine as she crept up behind him and pricked him with a sleep bolt. The rune on the pedestal called out to her, crumbling like all the others in the palm of her hand. There was a crawling sensation under her skin, the squeals of endless rats pounding in her ears, begging to be at her beck and call, to devour what or rather _who_ she presents to them. Dreadfully morbid. On cue, the Outsider summoned himself forth from the Shrine. 

"Hello, Jessamine. On your way to the doctor, I see." He had his arms crossed over his chest, a jovial tone to his voice. 

Jessamine brushed the dust from the rune off her palms. "I am. I don't expect a fight, you know. Nothing for you to be fascinated by." He grins at her cheekiness. 

"Oh, don't be so sure of that. You're going to see Anton Sokolov. He's desired my attention for quite some time, you know. He'll be delighted to see I've had some... intervention in your life." He gestures to her hand, the Mark tingling at its creator's acknowledgement. "Don't misunderstand me. I enjoy the admiration of men just as much women, but he's not my type." He leans in, close, with a brazen smile. "Desperation is such a turn off, wouldn't you agree?" 

Jessamine groans at the remark. "Must you be so audacious? Do you treat all your chosen like this or only me?"

"Only you, dear Empress. I treat all my marked differently. To one I am callous and indifferent, to another I'm a stoic guide, and to a third I am a muse. Consistency never was my strong suit. Rivers change course over many lifetimes, and eventually all bridges tumble down. A thousand years ago there was another city on this spot. The people carved the bones of whales into runes and inscribed them with my Mark. Children still find them washed up in the river mud." He crosses his arms. "Anton Sokolov has made a great study of my runes, you know, but he's not special like you are. He wasn't chosen and he doesn't wear my Mark, so he can't unlock their secrets. Sokolov believes there are specific words and acts that can compel me to appear before him. He searches old temples in Pandyssia and ruined subbasements in the Flooded District. he performs disgusting rituals beneath the old Abbey. But if he really wants to meet me, he could start by being a bit more interesting. Like you are, Jessamine." 

He whisks himself away before she can retort. "Shameless little waif." Jessamine mutters as she turns her back on the shrine. 

...

 Anton Sokolov is a brilliant man, Jessamine never doubted that. But as she jockeyed her way around Kaldwin's Bridge, past pylons and walls of light, she cursed the man's brilliance. The relentless thumping of the Heart didn't help, the sickly voice grating on her nerves as she tugged oil canisters from spotlight power boxes.

_"I smell bones in the pylons, blood beneath the stone blocks. Men died building this structure. You don't see dangers when you're hungry, when you're cold. You just see the labor that must be done so you can afford a full belly and a warm bed."_

It stills as she slips from the substation to the North End. Thank goodness. Jessamine's nerves were beginning to wear thin. 

Sokolov's apartment isn't far from the entrance to the North End. A few Blinks and she's on the rooftop across from it. Two guards pace the entrance, one attempting to engage in a conversation with the other about the nature of their assignment. The second guard grows bemused with the banter, and turns his back on his colleague to check on the oil tank powering a nearby alarm. Sufficiently distracted, the guard is none the wiser when the second drops unconscious from a bolt, shortly before one sinks into him. Jessamine is in Sokolov's home in seconds. 

...

The physician himself was occupied in his laboratory, back to the door, obsessing over data. He barely cares when he hears the door creak open. 

"If you're here to apply to be a subject, sit over there and I'll be with you in a moment." There's irritation in his voice. 

"I'm here for you, Anton."

He looks up, sour expression made more so by his sharp Tyvian features. "What? Who are you? Did Piero send you?"

Jessamine pulls the the mask over her head and looks him in the eyes. "Anton, it's me. I'm alive." She holds up her hand to shush him. "Before you ask, it was the Outsider. I'll tell you the full story if you come with me." 

Sokolov's eyes dart to her hand, growing wide as saucers. "Yes. Absolutely. Let's go right now." He scrambles to gather up his data and books, things he would need to continue work elsewhere. A woman shudders in a cage at the other end of the room, and the Heart quivers.

_"She's a test subject. There's good coin in allowing a medicine man to experiment on you. A day's discomfort in exchange for a cot and a meal is well worth it."_

"Anton..." Jessamine points to the cage. "Let her go first." 

"Hmm? What? Oh, of course. You always were an empath, Jessamine, but whatever you want."

He fumbles with the key, throwing the cage open. The woman coughs, gives a nod. "Thank you. I'm not feeling well, so I'll rest up until I'm ready to go." 

Sokolov turns eagerly back to Jessamine. "Alright, let's go now. Do you have a boat? Some transportation?" 

"Yes. There's a boatman waiting."

He clasps her hand in his. "Wonderful! Tell me the story on the way there, and don't leave out any details!"


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lady Boyle's last party takes an unexpected turn when one of her sisters conspires with Jessamine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm hoping to get this fic donion rings before november rolls around because knowing my luck Emily won't be gay in DH2

Excitement took decades off Anton Sokolov's face. He clutched Jessamine's hands in his as they sat in Samuel's boat on the way back to the Hound Pits, his eyes wide and bright, curiosity reducing the Royal Physician to a giddy schoolboy. 

"Tell me once more, Jessamine, what did he look like?" This was the third time he had asked this. 

"Anton, you already know the answer. He was young, cusp of adulthood, maybe 15 or 16. Gaunt and pasty with black hair that looked like he had combed it with his fingers, thin lips, and angular cheekbones." 

Sokolov's leg shook with pent-up energy, rattling the boat. "Did my paintings do him justice? Did he mention them?" 

Over Sokolov's shoulder, Samuel stared back at Jessamine with a slightly bemused expression. 

"To be honest, he only speaks to me about my task at hand. You made him look very... mystic. Ethereal. He's more crass than you made him out to be." 

She's plied with more questions, Sokolov's curiosity and hunger for knowledge insatiable and demanding of every crumb Jessamine can give him before Samuel interjects to announce their arrival to the pub. 

Piero stands stiffly with Martin and Havelock, and Sokolov's expression sours when he sees the other scholar. Tension lingers in the air, even as Havelock takes the reigns in the conversation. 

"Jessamine! Well done! Glad to see your diplomatic skills haven't rusted with disuse." He extends a hand to Sokolov, who takes it rather gruffly and gives it a sturdy shake. "It's nice to see you agreed to come along without a scuffle, Sokolov." 

"Yes, well. If it wasn't Jessamine, you'd have to resort have to give me a knock on the head and carrying me out like a child to get me to join up." 

Havelock chuckles, out of politeness more than anything, and gestures to Piero. "You know Piero Joplin, do you not? He has a workshop over here and we're looking forward to seeing two brilliant minds working together." 

 _That_ did it. 

"Two brilliant minds? More like one brilliant mind and a scatterbrained tinkerer who couldn't even make it in the Academy!" Sokolov spat. 

"I couldn't make it!? You got me kicked out in the first place you miserable geezer and you know it!" Piero hissed, taking a step forward, causing Overseer Martin, who looked both amused and uncomfortable, to take a step back. 

"You did that to yourself with your bumbling, you sloppy son of a-" 

"Anton!" Jessamine grabs him by the forearm before he does something all of Dunwall might regret. "Please, let's be civil here."

Sokolov looks genuinely ashamed as he composes himself. "I... You're right, Jessamine. I'm letting personal feelings get in the way of duty. I'm sure whatever workshop Piero has at his disposal will be..." He searches for the least insulting word he can manage. "Adequate." 

Piero leers at him, then Jessamine. "It's nothing state of the art but it more than gets the job done. I'd be... I can show it to you, while Jessamine touches base with the others." 

Taking the courteous yet curt invitation, Sokolov walks begrudgingly alongside Piero to the workshop, leaving Jessamine with Havelock and Martin. 

"Please excuse his eccentricities, gentlemen. He's very proud of his work, you see." 

Havelock places his hands on his hips while Martin keeps his arms crossed. "Oh, it's quite alright, Jessamine." Havelock smiles. "He's valuable, and worth any trouble. Sokolov's knowledge will enable us to strike at the Lord Regent directly, and ultimately help you, Emily, and Corvo get your lives back." He sighs. "Soon, we won't have to hide in shadows." He waves Jessamine in closer to him and Martin. "But between you and us, Sokolov was a fool to protect the Lord Regent." 

"But can you blame him, Admiral? He thought I was dead." 

"True, but he could have made us a great nation..." Jessamine stops him before he can finish the thought. 

"And he's more than making up for siding with that tyrant by helping us now." 

Havelock looks contrite. It's remarkable how many old men Jessamine's humbling this evening. "You're right, and I apologize. You have my thanks, ma'am." 

"I was just doing what's right, Admiral. But for now I think I'll get some sleep." 

... 

Two pairs of bright eyes stare at Jessamine when she stirs from sleep. 

"You were making funny faces while you were sleeping, mommy." Emily giggles, sitting beside Corvo on the floor of the attic. "Corvo, make that one face she made." 

Corvo hangs his mouth open like an old dog, eyes rolling back and just barely covered by the lids, causing Emily to burst in laughter. 

"How cruel, my own Lord Protector mocking me." Jessamine teases. Corvo winks at her and does the face again for Emily. 

"We decided to nap in here while Callista was having her bath." He says while Emily recovers from her giggle fit.  

"Is that okay, mommy?" 

Rolling out of bed, Jessamine goes to kiss Emily's forehead. "Of course it is." 

"Thanks mommy, it makes me feel better." She claps her hands together. "I know! I'm going to go downstairs and get biscuits and jam and we can eat together like we used to! I'll be super fast, I promise!" Emily speeds away before Jessamine or Corvo can respond. 

"She's putting on for you, you know." Corvo says, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. "She doesn't sleep well. She thrashes around and mumbles. I hear her crying while her bath water's running." 

He watches as Jessamine combs her hair, pinning it up and contemplating. Her hands drop to her sides when the final pin is in and she slinks over to Corvo, dropping down and sitting beside him. 

"I know." Jessamine leans in and rests her head on Corvo's shoulder. "I wish she wouldn't. She wants to be normal, I know, and we'll be normal again soon, but I wish she knew that she didn't have to push herself to be strong." 

The calluses on Corvo's hands are so familiar, so comforting as he takes Jessamine's hand and holds it tightly. "She sees you being so strong, Jess, and she wants to do her part. She doesn't feel like she has to be strong, she wants to be strong." 

"What about you?" Corvo's thumb is stroking the back of Jessamine's hand. She could close her eyes and be back in Dunwall Tower, back in silk nightclothes while Corvo sneaks into her bedroom like he did so many times before, back to knowing that the most troubling thing in her life would be getting Emily to wake up at a reasonable time. 

"I don't sleep." It's a confession, an admission of defeat and the exhaustion is barely contained in Corvo's voice. "I sit up, I watch Emily sleep. I can't bear to be away from her. I sit through her lessons with Callista, her meals, I sit on the edge of the dock and watch the waves of the river with her because I'm afraid, I'm so afraid that if I look away, that if I'm gone, she won't be there when I turn back. And when I'm not worried about her, I'm worried about you." 

His free hand wipes at his eyes and he clutches Jessamine's hand even tighter. 

"But you can protect yourself now. I know I shouldn't worry. It's so ridiculous." His voice is cracking. "I'm so sorry. I couldn't stop what happened. I couldn't protect you. I couldn't protect Emily. Jessamine, what good am I if I can't be your protector?" 

Corvo sits stiffly when Jessamine pulls her hand away from his, instead cupping his face in both her hands.

"You don't need to be anything but Corvo. Just you. That's all I want. Corvo, I love you, Emily loves you. Not the Royal Protector, you. That's all we could ever want." 

Emily comes stomping up the stairs before Jessamine is able to lean in and give Corvo a kiss. 

"I'm sorry it took me so long!" She pants, placing a large tray of food on the floor in front of her mother and Corvo. "I told Lydia and Cecilia what I wanted to do and they helped me make breakfast! There's eggs, sausage, the biscuits and some jam, and juice!" 

They dine together, just like before. Corvo duels Emily for a bit of her sausage, forks in lieu of swords and his victory becomes Pyrrhic as she snatches a large bit of biscuit dripping in strawberry jam off his plate, and for a moment, everything is at peace. 

...

When the plates were cleared, Corvo volunteered to take the tray down to the kitchen with Emily. "Make sure you write Lydia and Cecelia thank you notes after your lessons with Callista, alright?" 

Emily nodded her head and skipped towards the staircase. "Okay, Corvo! I'll meet you at the bottom of the stairs!" She romped down the steps, humming to herself and smiling. 

"Promise me you'll get a nap in while Callista is attending to Emily's lessons, alright?" Jessamine asked with a peck to Corvo's cheek. 

"Alright." He returned the kiss, but to her lips. "Tell Callista to wake me when she's done with Emily." 

When Jessamine went to servant's quarters, she saw Piero outside of the bathroom, knelt down with his face to the lock. 

"Piero." 

He jumped, alarmed and face flushing red. 

"M-miss Jessamine!" He squeals like a mouse. "I know it looks... I-I was inventing a new kind of lock! Er, the tumblers- eh shaped like- er, snowflakes!" Sweat beads along his brow and he can't meet her eyes. When it becomes evident that she's not buying his excuses, he fesses up. 

"The truth is there is no snowflake lock. I was just, you know, looking. Through the lock." 

"You'd best be careful, Piero." Jessamine smiles serenely at him. "If Corvo caught you doing that, he'd tell Callista." Her smile seems to put Piero even less at ease.

"But what about you?" The wind is knocked out of him as she pushes him against the wall, her forearm pressed against his collar bone. 

"You don't want to know what'll happen if this happens again." She responds in the same serene manner. When she lets him go, he stumbles off with apologies thrown over his shoulder, while Callista peaks her head out of the bathroom door. 

"What happened?" Her hair is still wet and sudsy. "I heard a thud." 

"Oh, Piero just tripped walking through here. He's alright, though. I just happened to catch him while I was coming here to ask you a favor." 

"Anything you need, ma'am." 

"Can you wake Corvo up after Emily's lessons? He's going to take a nap while you're attending to her, goodness knows he could use the rest." 

Callista brushes a piece of hair sticking to her forehead away. "Of course, miss. Between you and I, he needs the rest. I don't think he's been sleeping very well." 

 After receiving Jessamine's thanks, Callista ducks back into the bathroom and Jessamine goes down to the bar to meet with Sokolov, who is sitting around the bar sipping at glasses of cider and brandy with Admiral Havelock. Sokolov is the one who waves her over. 

"Jessamine," he calls out as he sets his glass down on the coaster in front of him. "Wonderful timing." 

"Gentlemen." She walks over to the tap and fills up a pint glass with a stout beer, taking a seat on the nearest stool. "What are we discussing?" 

"Your next task," Havelock responds, swirling the contents of his glass around. "the Lord Regent's mistress. Sokolov knows who she is." 

"You give me too much credit, Admiral. True, I painted her picture, but I was not permitted to see her face or hear her full name. But, what I do know enough that Jessamine can more than likely extrapolate her full identity." Sokolov muses, a sly grin beneath his beard. 

"With such confidence, I couldn't let you down, Anton." Jessamine grins back. 

"It's one of the Boyle sisters, Jessamine. She made a striking portrait but I do not know which Boyle she is. But, we have a plan! Don't we, Admiral?" 

Havelock nods in affirmation. "Sokolov was to attend a masked ball in her honor tonight, and you'll be going in his place." 

"I have the invitation tucked somewhere with my things, and it'll get you in. You already have a mask from what I understand." Sokolov states, playfulness in his gruff Tyvian voice. 

"I'm no stranger to mingling," Jessamine says, tracing her fingertip around the rim of her glass. "I'll have her sussed out before the punch bowl empties." 

"You know the drill, Jess." Havelock empties the last of the brandy in his glass. "As soon as you're ready, Samuel will take you. Enjoy the party." 

...

"Good grief." 

As he eased the boat into the canal, Samuel turned to Jessamine, gesturing to the streets above. 

"Are those Tallboys?" She stared up, incredulous, at the mechanical stiltwalkers patrolling the streets.

"Yep. The Lord Regent's pulling out all the stops for the Boyle family. You watch yourself now, Jess." 

His concern is heartwarming. "I will, Samuel. Maybe I'll even bring you back some leftovers from the party." 

The boatman's laugh is hearty in response. "Don't you worry none about that. Fancy food doesn't sit well with me. I've got myself some bread and a tin of hagfish just in case, so you go and enjoy yourself." 

Reaching the Boyle's manor was the first, and hopefully least difficult hurdle to pass. Small clusters of aristocrats and socialites walked along the streets, unnoticed by the Tallboys. A quick Blink, and Jessamine was close enough to blend in with them.

"Are you going to the Boyle's party too? I must say, you look delightfully dreadful." A woman in a moth mask had noticed Jessamine walking behind them. 

"I am. I'm going as a representative of Anton Sokolov, in fact. To give his regards. He was ill this evening, you see." 

"Ah, that explains it." The woman's date, a socialite wearing a mask like a painted doll's face piped up, wrapping herself around her lover's arm. "You look just like that Masked Felon on all those posters! That Sokolov always did seem one for black comedy." 

"Yes, he came up with the idea himself. He even told me to sign the guest ledger as Jessamine Kaldwin." The couple shrieked in glee. 

"How scandalous!" The one in the moth mask said. "Tonight's really going to be a show!" 

Their small talk continued until they reached the gates to the Boyle estates. The Heart, tucked safely in its usual place in Jessamine's pocket, began thumping lightly. 

"You ladies go on without me. I'm going to see if one of the guards will let me use the restroom in their bunkhouse before I go in, just to make sure my outfit is alright." 

Unsuspecting, the lovers strolled towards the manor, leaving Jessamine to pace in the shadows outside nearby buildings, most condemned, looking for the source of the Heart's unrest. 

The beating intensified outside one partially boarded up building, Jessamine using her Dark Vision to see through the bricks, revealing both a shrine with a rune and a Weeper. A sleep bolt did away with the poor man, who Jessamine left leaned against a wall in his slumber. Same as before, the rune crumbled in her hand, but presented a particularly grotesque new power: rats, summoned forth form the Void itself to devour whatever or whoever her target may be. Disgusting, but a last resort if Jessamine ever had use of one. 

A familiar miasma filled the room, the Outsider summoning himself forth and greeting Jessamine with a cock of his eyebrow. 

"Going to a party, Jessamine? I bet you've missed that, the excitement and wealth and beautiful women in the latest fashions, laughing and drinking Tyvian wine." His tone is neither mocking nor accusatory. It's simply a statement but Jessamine knows that nothing simply _is_ with the Outsider. 

"As a matter of fact, I did." She retorts, not bothering to mask the irritation in her voice. 

"And what of the host, Lady Boyle?" 

"What about her?"

"I can see all her tomorrows and I know that she either dies tonight at your hand or she'll live out a portion of her days, month after month, far away." He crosses his arms and tilts his head, waiting for her reaction. 

"I'm not going to kill Lady Boyle, of all people. She's a just a socialite." 

"So you say. Half the city can see the lights from the party, and they dream of the delights inside. Will you tear it all to pieces, Jessamine?"

"Are you quite done? There's a difference between fashionably late and just plain late." She scoffs, and the faintest smile appears on his lips. 

"Oh, I do _so_ enjoy pushing your buttons, dear Jessamine." He coos, and the void around him begins to swirl and dissipate. "Either way, it's Lady Boyle's last party." 

Muttering curses under her breath, Jessamine clatters her way to the Boyle estate, calming herself as she presents the invitation to the doorman.

"I'm here on behalf of Anton Sokolov." She explains as he looks over the piece of stationary. 

"Couldn't make it, huh?"

"He wasn't feeling well. I was sent to give his regards."

The doorman passes the invitation back to her. "I'm not surprised. He probably ran himself ragged with his work on the plague. Go right in, miss. Have a good evening." 

The decor in the Boyle manor was lush and festive. Lanterns sat on nearby tables, illuminating the marble floors that guest and waitstaff walked upon. In the main room, the refreshments table was accented with large bouquets of flowers while confetti was shot from canons. A large roast fish, whale statue, and a fountain of cider caught they eye immediately. 

After signing the guest ledger (as Jessamine Kaldwin, no less), Jessamine integrated herself with the other guests. 

"I absolutely adore your costume." A man in a whale mask said to Jessamine as he poked at the jelly on his plate. His companion, a man in a minimalist red mask, seemed to agree. 

"I guarantee you're not going to see anyone else even remotely close to you tonight." The red masked man said, poking the straw from his cider glass through the lips of his the mask. 

"Are you playing the game tonight?" The whale masked man inquires as his partner slurps his drink. 

"What game?" 

"The Boyles are having a game to see who can guess their identities." The red masked man speaks up while the whale masked man wriggles a bit of jello under his mask. "You should ask Miss White, goodness knows she's the keenest at this party. You can find her in the library, I believe." 

"Thank you for the tip, gentlemen. Enjoy the party." 

Miss White, as it turns out, is the woman in the moth mask, and is quite pleased to see Jessamine again.

"Oh, you! There you are! I thought you were never coming!" She chimes as Jessamine greets her. 

"I got delayed checking my costume. Had to hide a snag in the thread, you see." 

Miss White waves her hand. "Oh, believe me I know how difficult that can be, especially when you're dressing to impress. Are you playing the Boyles' game?" 

"I am. Why don't I get us some drinks and we'll gossip about it, just you and me." 

Flattery goes a long way with aristocracy, as does a fine glass of cider. 

"Thank you so much, darling." Miss White says, fiddling with the flaps on her mask and attempting to get the glass to her lips. "Now," she utters in a scandalous tone. "Let's talk about the game." 

"I know for a fact that Waverly is in white tonight. Perhaps she's pretending to be a virgin." Miss White confides, leaning close to Jessamine with merriment in her tone. "Additionally, Lydia's in black. Have fun, darling. You deserve it." 

So, Waverly Boyle was in white, Lydia Boyle was in black, which means that Esma Boyle was in red. As Jessamine left Miss White to her own devices, the question remained: but which was Burrow's mistress? Keeping herself in the corner with her mask raised to her nose and sipping her cider, Jessamine became lost in thought, only roused as a figure in red approached her. 

"I trust you're enjoying the party?" Esma Boyle stood before her, holding her own glass of cider.

"Yes. It's been sometime since I've been to a good festivity, you know." 

Esma sips from her straw, making a small "hmm" in response. "Well, shall we skip the pleasantries?" She lowers her voice, now accusing. "I know who you are, and what you're here to do." 

The music of the party is drowned out by the rush of blood in Jessamine's ears. "I... I'm sorry I don't... I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about." 

Esma leans against the wall beside her. "Please. No one in their right mind would come to a Boyle party dressed like that. No one would risk upstaging me or my sisters. You're the Masked Felon, I know that much, and you're here to kill my sister." 

The Heart beats in her pocket. 

_"There was trouble when her daughter was born. Then the doctors told her there would be no more children._

_She shines._

_She and her sisters shine like stars in the night sky, unreachable to the people in the dirt, so beautiful and so unreal."_

"Would you believe me if I told you my identity?" It's a risk, but Esma might understand. A mother might believe a mother.

"Try me." 

"I'm Jessamine Kaldwin. The Outsider saved my life, so I could fix what Burrows did." 

"Ah, that explains it." So she believes her. "This explains how the Loyalists have come so far, and why they never found your body. I have a deal to make with you, Jessamine. I believe you'll find it mutually beneficial." 

She really does believe her. "I'm willing to hear you out, Esma." 

"You guessed who I was? You're crafty. Here's what I propose: I take Waverly, the Lord Regent's mistress, and I take her away. I take her far away from Dunwall until this is all done with, and you can have Lydia to support your cause." 

"What would you get in return?" 

"My sister's life. We may squabble, Jessamine, but I truly love my sisters. I have no political leanings either way, but I value my family." 

"How do I know you'll hold up your end of the bargain?" 

"I had a daughter too, Jessamine." There's a stutter in Esma's voice. "She died in birth, and the experience left me barren. My sisters are all I have left. I have no alliance to Burrows, and no reason to betray you. Surely you understand my point of view?" 

It was just as the Heart said. 

"Alright. I'd gladly let you take her away. I'd rather not kill her." 

Esma exhales in relief. "Thank you, Jessamine. I promise you'll not see us till your daughter is on the throne again." She takes a deep sip of her cider. "Maybe we'll go to Serkonos. I've heard its wonderfully warm there." 

... 

By the time Jessamine left the party, guests were already beginning to trickle out, stumbling in drunken stupors and raucous laughter. Samuel sat patiently in the boat, reading a worn novel as he waited for her.

"I hope you enjoyed your evening, Jess." 

"I did, Samuel. It was a wonderful party." 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Lord Regent is finally confronted.

The Hound Pits were cast in the early morning light when Jessamine and Samuel returned. At Samuel's advisement, Jessamine sought after Pendleton in the wine cellar to debrief him on Lady Boyle's party. He was on the balcony when she found him, drinking a Morley dessert wine straight from the bottle. 

"Jessamine, you incredible woman!" He was rosy up to his ears and patted her shoulders like a brother would, sloppy and rough but sincere. "You did it. And now we've done away with a woman, and a noblewoman at that!" He takes another sip from the bottle. "But Boyle was a viper. She helped the Lord Regent kill... try and kill you, so I don't feel a thing for her." He puts a hand on the balcony's railing to steady himself and offers Jessamine the bottle. She politely takes a sip of the sweet wine before handing the bottle back to Pendleton. 

"And not only that, but a servant I sent was victorious in a duel against a nobleman there. It's a good day indeed." He's slurring slightly, less from the wine and more from happiness. It's rare to see such a dour man giddy. 

"I'm glad you're relaxed, Treavor. I know things have been tense for you lately." The business at the Cat was fairly recent, and more than likely still fresh on Pendleton's mind. 

"I am. It hasn't been easy lately, but I'll be damned if today isn't good." He offers her the bottle again, and shrugs it off when she gently declines. "I might be relaxed, but you aren't. Havelock and Martin have already cooked up something more for you. They'd like to see you now. But, take care, Jessamine." 

In Havelock's chambers the admiral and Martin were hunched over Havelock's desk, pouring over maps and documents. Havelock immediately grew stern when Jessamine entered. 

"Jessamine the time has come." 

"The time? You don't mean..." 

Havelock crosses his arms behind his back. "That's right. Everything we have done, everything that you have done, has served to make this moment possible." Martin tears his attention away from the documents long enough to speak. 

"The Lord Regent is exposed, Jessamine. Vulnerable. And now everything is in place to strike at him. We're one step from the throne." 

It was time. It was time to exact revenge on the Lord Regent and take back what was hers, to right what was wrong. 

"But I'm guessing this won't be easy, will it, gentlemen?" 

Martin shakes his head. "Far from it. The Lord Regent's paranoia has reached an all time high. He has lost the support of the Overseers, the Parliament, his financial base, and he's lost Sokolov, who made his security technology. So at Dunwall Tower he has consolidated every remaining loyal man around him." 

"He knows something is coming." Havelock takes over, scratching his stubbled chin as he speaks. "He knows someone is coming. And everything depends on him being correct. Piero will help you prepare, then Samuel will take you close to the Tower, near the water lock." 

The Tower. Back to the Tower. It's felt like lifetimes but she'll finally be able to go back. 

"Last time you were there was the horrible day that all of this started." Havelock clasps a hand on her shoulder. "Now you will go there and end it. Good luck, Jessamine." 

"I'm not sure what else we could say," Martin is almost in disbelief, and almost in a state of anxiety. "other than our hopes are riding on you." They leave Jessamine to enjoy a final evening at the Pub as they return to their machinations around the desk. 

...

In the workshop, Piero and Sokolov stand around, chatting intently and drinking. Both scholars perk up when Jessamine comes near. 

"Jessamine, may we ask something of you?" Sokolov goes to refill his glass from a bottle labelled "King Street Brandy". 

"What do you need." 

"Well, Piero and I were curious and, well, we'd like to see some demonstrations of your arcane abilities." 

"You do?" 

"Of course! Piero has a rune for you, as well." 

Setting his glass down, Piero sprints up the stairs of his workshop, retrieving a small slab of whale bone. "Here. We'd be very grateful if you'd give a small demonstration." 

"I suppose. For research purposes, of course." Jessamine takes the rune, the bone warming in her hand and turning to ash as Piero and Sokolov stare on in awe. 

"How did you do that?" Piero is scrambling for paper and ink. 

"I don't know. It just happens. Then the ability just comes to me." Her head feels light, foggy and the new power dawns on her: the ability to possess another living being. 

"Incredible." Piero's furious scribbling is quickly filling the page. 

Sokolov is prodding at the ashes. "What abilities do you have, Jessamine? How do you use them?" 

"I can, well, Blink. It's like a sort of teleportation. I can alter my vision, temporarily, and see through walls. I can slow time. I can summon plague rats. The rune you gave me just granted me the ability to possess a living being, again temporarily. What would you like to see first?" 

Now Sokolov is scrabbling for notes. "The Blink, if you please." 

It's simple enough for Jessamine to Blink herself from the ground floor of the workshop up to the living quarters, but it leaves Piero and Sokolov gasping in amazement.

"Incredible!" Piero smacks Sokolov's arm. "You saw that, right? You saw that! She... she just....  

"She was there and then she was there..." Sokolov's eyes are wide. "Jessamine, how did you do that?" 

"Well, it's like everything stops. The world stops, and I rush forward fast and without thinking." 

After putting Jessamine through all sorts of test, from plucking a thrown bottle out of the air after she's frozen time to summoning and possessing a rat to listing off the items Piero's hidden behind a wall for her, Piero and Sokolov are buzzing with inspiration. 

"It's incredible! I couldn't have dreamed of seeing something like this!" Sokolov gushes while comparing notes with Piero, who is drawing diagrams. 

"I know!" Piero sketches the Blink's cylindrical light. "But there are so many things to cross-analyze with this!" He pauses, looking up at Jessamine. "Oh, right. Did you want me to make something for your mission tomorrow?"

"As many sleep bolts, elixirs, and spiritual remedies as you can give me." Piero scribbles her order down before joining back in discussion with Sokolov, leaving Jessamine with just one thing left to do.

...

In Emily's room in the tower, Corvo is sitting on the floor with his back against the bed, eating grapes while Emily draws a picture of whales with crayons. 

"Hey Jess," Corvo grins when he sees her. "how are you feeling? I'm doing grape." Just before he pops another grape in his mouth, Jessamine snatches it out of his hands and eats it, grinning back at him as he feigns offense. 

"You're certainly chipper." 

He stretches back, leaning his head back onto the bed. "Things feel good right now." He sighs, looking content for the first time since, well, since before Jessamine sent him off to seek aid for the Plague from other nations. He suddenly snaps back up, rifling through a stack of drawings near Emily and flashing them at Jessamine. 

"Look, Emily drew us. Spot on, right?" The drawings are rosy-cheeked and exaggerated and childish and so, so beautiful. Emily dives at Corvo, reaching for the papers. 

"Corvo!" She yelps as he holds them out of her reach. "They were supposed to be a surprise!" When it becomes evident that he's bent on showing them to her mother, Emily resigns herself to defeat and collapses onto Corvo's lap. 

"Well, do you like them, mommy?" 

"Of course, sweetheart. They look just like me and Corvo." 

Corvo scratches his chin in an over exaggerated show of contemplation. "I dunno... I don't think you made me handsome enough," he ponders, earning a swat on the knee from Emily. 

"Listen," Both Emily and Corvo focus on Jessamine, rapt attention in their similar faces and staring back at her with the same brown eyes. "I'm going back to Dunwall Tower tomorrow morning." 

"What?" Corvo is the one who questions, furrowing his brow and instinctively holding Emily close and safe in his arms, while the girl sits in a trance, dazed and no doubt lost in the memories of what happened the last time her mother was at Dunwall Tower. 

Jessamine levels with them, kneels down onto the floor to get face-to-face with Corvo. "It's time, Corvo. I'll be able to get to the Lord Regent. I don't know what I'm going to do, but he will be eliminated." 

Emily is stiff in Corvo's arms, too stupefied and tired to cry. The silence in the room is stifling, Corvo attempting to process what Jessamine plans to do, and Emily staring at the wall. 

"Will we be able to go back, mommy?" She's so quiet, so small. Jessamine's baby forced to grow up too much too fast. "Will we be normal again? Things will be fine again?" 

"Yes, love. You'll be Empress. I'll teach you everything I know and we'll just be a family again." 

She sits silent once more, staring at the floor, at her crayons and papers and sketches of whales and fishermen and "mummy" and "daddy". 

"Ok." She says. She wriggles out of Corvo's arms, retrieving pajamas out of her bureau. "I think I want to go to sleep now, Corvo. Mommy, will you sleep with me tonight? I don't want to be away from you right now." 

"Of course, love." 

The beds in the tower are pushed together, the three of them piled together under the quilts and sheets. Jessamine slips out in the morning before Corvo and Emily wake up. 

... 

Dunwall Tower has become less a home and more a fortress. The architecture more foreboding, and the premise littered with City Watch. Upon arrival, even the normally warm-hearted Samuel becomes dreary and tense. 

"This is it, Jess." His clothing has been ironed, for once. A formal gesture for what he and Jessamine both understand to be less a mission and more of an event. "Your last memories of Dunwall Tower might not be good ones, eh? So maybe you can make up for what happened back then." It's his attempt at a joke, to lighten the mood and make it feel like one of their excursions to the Distillery District.

"That's what I'm hoping, Samuel." Jessamine sits with her hands clasped, in prayer almost, hoping for the same luck and benevolence today as she was given that fateful day. 

"You'll be able to do it. I know you will. It'll be a bit of climb from the water lock, though. Most important thing is killin' the Lord Regent. Built himself a quite a place at the top of the tower. Calls it his safe room, or somethin'. Crazy if ya ask me." 

"It's not like he doesn't have reason to be worried." 

"True, but one room isn't gonna stop a hellbent woman like you, huh Jess? Oh, another point of interest while I'm givin' ya the grand tour on the renovations: the broadcast control station here- where all them announcements come from? Might be worth looking into." 

He parks the boat against a wall of rock near the gate to the water lock. 

"You ready? Next time I see you, the Lord Regent'll be dead, I just know it." 

"I wish I had the same confidence as you, Samuel." Jessamine replies as she tucks her darts and blade into her coat. "I might not come back." 

"You will." He smiles at her, wistful. "It's been an honor to serve with you, Jessamine, and I know you'll come back." When he holds his hand out to shake hers, Jessamine pulls the old boatman into a tight hug, kissing his cheek when she pulls away from it. 

"It's been an honor to serve with you too, Samuel. You've been a friend, truly." 

"That's, oh, I'm sorry." He turns away. "I got somethin' in my eye, Jess. You go on ahead. Good luck." 

... 

The water lock, as expected, was simple enough to get up. Jessamine's blink made getting through the moving mechanisms easy. The issue is with the guards. 

It wasn't that they were particularly competent guards, they were the regular City Watch, but the sheer number of them was vexing. It appeared that Burrows valued quantity over quality. It would take five of these men to match Corvo's skill. And the Tall Boys, the cursed Tall Boys. Kneeling on the roof over the water lock, Jessamine devised her plan. 

The goal would to enter through the front door. 

Small guard posts littered the grounds of the tower. Enough that Jessamine could use them as cover. Avoiding the spotlights and Tall Boys was another matter. She could Blink, but it wouldn't get her as far as she would like. She could possess a guard, but it would be a risk. If she was ejected from the body of one outside of a guard post, she'd be exposed. Enough rats scurried back and forth around the edges of the grounds, and possessing one could help her elude anyone who saw her. There wasn't much wiggle room in the plan, but the security measures Burrows implemented didn't allow for much improvisation. She need to know what to do, and what to do if that failed. Focusing magic in her palm, Jessamine takes control of the nearest guard. 

The guard's body is heavy, more muscular than Jessamine herself, but she wills his legs to move, for his feet to get to the nearest post before his own will pushes her out. In the safety of the checkpoint, Jessamine exits the guard. The aftershock of the possession is too much for it, and he bends over and empties his stomach on the ground. In his vulnerability, he's unaware to Jessamine's presence, and she jams a sleep bolt into his back. With her first shell's body snoring and hidden under the counter in the post, Jessamine moves on to the next. And the next, each one disposed of with a sleep bolt or the vise of Jessamine's forearm against the windpipe. After enough close calls and a couple vials of spiritual remedy, she's able to pass through the front doors of the Tower, her last victim shoved fast asleep into the corner of the foyer. 

Burrows. 

The man who took her life, her daughter's life, Corvo's life, is standing only a few hundred yards away from her, barking at a guard.

"What is going on down there, General?"

"There are no reports of any disturbances, Lord Regent!" The guard responds, standing at the top of the stairs but below Burrows.

"I don't care!" The Lord Regent is demanding, he wants more and more from all of those around him, Jessamine knows this quite well. "Double the guards anyway! Triple them! Make sure everyone is doing what needs to be done!" 

"Yes, Lord Regent. Since the rooftop is secure, you should stay in the safe room for now. My men and I will ensure no one gets up to you."

Foolish man, Jessamine thinks to herself, you shouldn't make promises you can't keep. 

She needs to stay calm. Anger will cause her to trip over herself, blunder in some way in her haste. She Blinks up the walls, past the guards lining the stairs who are only doing their jobs. From chandelier to chandelier she goes, Blinking on the light fixtures and up to beams along the walls, allowing her to bypass the Wall of Light Burrows installed. Every step gets her closer to Burrows, it's just a matter of time. Jessamine has been through so much, what difficulty is it to weave through unsuspecting guards and climb the beams along the ceiling?

The officers protecting the Lord Regent's "safe room" drop like files from sleep bolts, but there's a Tall Boy patrolling. Of course, just her luck. But she's so close, she refuses to give up. To make matters worse, there's an Overseer with a music box. If she's caught, there goes her magic. She only has one shot to slip in.

"Fuck it." 

Possessing a rat, Jessamine manages to scurry undetected into the guard barracks below the safe room. The Overseer is feet away, clueless but in the Tall Boy's line of sight. As soon as the Tall Boy turns and marches to the other end of the corridor, she strikes, hitting the Overseer with a sleep bolt. Once his body is dragged away and hidden, another rat becomes her vessel as she ascends a staircase to yank the oil tank fueling a Wall of Light, the only thing separating her from her target at this point, from its port. 

She slows time, marching into Burrow's room and pushing him off to the corner and against the wall. Her blade sits, just barely, against his throat as time snaps back for her. 

"Make one sound, and you're dead." 

The color drains from Burrow's face, and immediately he begins to beg. 

"You... you... please!" He's sniveling like a child. "I know what you want to do, but please, whatever your benefactors are giving you, I'll pay triple, quadruple!" 

He trembles when she presses the blade ever closer to his skin. 

"What," she murmurs against his ear, "you don't remember me?" 

Burrows turns a ghastly shade of green when her mask comes off. 

"Jessamine!" He looks on the verge of fainting. "No, no no no! You're dead! I know you are!" 

Keeping her sword against his throat, she flashes the back of her hand to him. "You don't know everything, Burrows." 

The gears are moving in his head, veins throbbing in his forehead. "Please, please I know you want to kill me, end me. But don't. Here." His shaking hands just barely hold keys up for Jessamine. "The Skeleton Key to the Tower. It'll get you into everywhere. In-in my safe, there's an audiograph in the safe in my bedroom. It's a confession. Everything. Not just about what I did to you, but the Plague. Go to the broadcast room, and play it. Expose me, but just don't kill me." 

The key fits snug in her pocket, near the Heart. But he's not free yet. 

"What do you mean the Plague?"

"I did it, I brought the Plague." He nearly squeals when she presses her blade closer to his throat, too close, blood barely beading onto the steel. "I-I wanted to use it to get rid of the poor! But it spread! If they had followed the rules, obeyed the quarantines, it wouldn't have spread! Then you asked too many questions! I had to get rid of you, I had too! You'd learn the truth! I had to take power, I had too!"

Even when Jessamine pulls back, puts her blade away, he doesn't move. He continues to shiver in place as though he can feel the heat of her rage radiating from her body. The Heart is restless, pounding in her pocket so hard the thread of her coat can barely contain it. 

_"He did it! He did it!_

_Pestilence! Murder! Fear! He did it!_

_For what!? Why?!_

_To kill the poor! The poor! To kill people he does not see as such!_

_Kill him! Void take him! Outsider devour his rotten heart!"_

"You fucking bastard." It's quiet, it's calm, Jessamine's anger has transcended. "You're dead."

She raises her hand, palm up, the magic and arcane retribution swirling from her very skin. 

Tears and snot stream down Burrows' face, sobs caught in his chest. "No... No..." 

"You like rats, do you, Burrows?"

His muscles lock when the rats come, fear holding his body in unseen shackles. 

"No... No! NO!"

He's openly sobbing as the rats gnaw through his boots, to the papery skin of his ankles. He drops to his knees and the rats climb further, ravenous, digging into his skin. 

"Jessamine, please!" He's choking on his fear, the rats swarming his body. He cries out as she turns to leave. "Jessamine, please! Please! Jessamine do not LEAVE ME HERE TO DIE! JESSAMINE! PLEASE! JESSAMINE I DO NOT WANT TO DIE!" 

The rats have reached his face, and she stops in her tracks. 

"That's funny. Neither did I." 

She watches, for a moment. A white rat has climbed up to her shoulder, snuffling near her cheek as though to seek approval from her mistress. When she hears the thumping footsteps of the Tall Boy get too close, with reinforcements in tow, she leaves, nothing but a pile of bones and viscera remaining of the Lord Regent. 

... 

Samuel is uncharacteristically grim as the boat approaches the Hound Pits. 

"Just thinking about the message you broadcasted. Hearing the Lord Regent admit that he caused this mess..." He shivers. "It's just incredible that a man could be so cruel." 

"I know. But things are going to change, Samuel."

"Oh, I know, Jess. Makes me uneasy, to tell the truth. The small fry like me always gets the worst of it." 

"I think you're important, Samuel." 

With the Pub coming into view, Samuel eases up on the motor of the boat. "I know, Jess, but I'm not that important. The others are in the bar, by the way, no doubt waiting to raise a glass in your name." 

He holds hand out when he parks, helping Jessamine step out of the dinghy. "Me, I think I'll just linger out here, if you don't mind. Reflect on things while we have a moment. Congratulations, Jess."

The tavern was rowdy when Jessamine stepped in. Lydia and Cecilia walked around, refilling glasses. The Loyalist stand at the bar, while Corvo and Emily sit with Callista at a booth. Those with free hands clap when they see Jessamine. 

"You've done it!" Havelock cheers with a beer in hand. "The Lord Regent's done! Farewell you Hiram Burrows, you scheming piece of shit!" From the corner of her eye, Jessamine can see Corvo covering Emily's ears. "Pardon my language, Jessamine."

Jessamine brushes it off, accepting a glass of whiskey from Pendleton "It's quite alright, Admiral. I'd like to think we deserve to cut a loose today." 

"Damn straight! We have big plans, Jessamine. First: Find Daud, the assassin that the Lord Regent sent to try and butcher you. Then you can have your revenge."

"I think I've had my fill of revenge for today, but I don't think I'd say no to that." 

"Ha! I'd say you deserve it! We'll clean up Burrow's mess yet. The armed forces will do their job. Martin has control of the Overseers. And you, Treavor," he turns to Pendleton, who is surprisingly sober on such an occassion, "do whatever it is you do with Parliament." 

"That's Lord Treavor Pendleton to you. Without me, you'll never command the nobility. They'll tear you apart like a fish." He snaps, defensive.

"Sorry, Jessamine." Havelock is addressing her again. "We're nervous. Your work is done, and ours begins."

"It's fine, gentlemen. I'm looking forward to the coronation, to be honest." 

"I'm afraid that will be an impromptu affair, but it still requires much preparation. Most of it we can handle, but there is the matter of security."

"I'll have Corvo be sharp and wary tomorrow." 

"Good, good!" Havelock raises his glass, the others in the pub following suite. "To Jessamine! The empress who served to change the course of history!" 

Treavor's turns to Emily. "To Emily Kaldwin, and the new dawn rising for Dunwall and the Empire!" The little girl blushes, but is pleased with the attention. 

The party continues for some hours, the inhabitants of the pub carefree and joyous. The whiskey Treavor gave her must have been strong, as once her glass is drained, Jessamine is tipsier than expected. 

"You go rest," Corvo tells her, "I'll stay here with Emily. She's the life of the party." He puts two fingers against his cheek, something he used to do when people were present to convey that he wanted to kiss her. She's intent on sleeping this off, on rising in the morning and seeing her daughter crowned empress, but she doesn't even reach her bed, instead collapsing on the attic floor. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of Jessamine's poisoning + the Flooded District. Daud gets what Jessamine thinks he deserves.

Someone had tried to kill Jessamine yet again. "Tried" being the key word. She had yet to experience a successful assassination. The hard flooring of the Hound Pits attic lay under her back, her vision blurring and spotting as now familiar figures filled in the spaces in her vision. 

"Samuel you move like you've been drinking." Martin's voice, scolding the poor boatman while Pendleton's scrawny form knelt on the ground beside Jessamine. "Did the poison work it's magic? Is she dead?"

"It better have worked. It cost me a month's profit." Pendleton spoke of her as if she were vermin, something that needed disposing of but just wouldn't go away.

Samuel stood with them, mimicking their business-like stances with crossed arms. "Yessir," he lies, "I believe Miss Kaldwin has just breathed her last, just as you wanted."

Just as they wanted. They wanted this. They wanted her dead, no different than that rat Burrows. 

Havelock pats Samuel on the shoulder. "You've done a fine job, then. Did you remember to put the sleep poison into Corvo's drink as well?" 

"Yes, sir. He oughta be out like a baby right now."

"Good", Martin says, staring down at Jessamine's body. "Remember, we need Corvo's body. Get rid of Jessamine's. If we come forward with the man who murdered the Empress, ready for the execution he cheated, we'll be greeted as heroes, and she won't have any way to dispute it." 

Havelock is distanced from Samuel now, standing with his fellow conspirators. "Yes, it'll grant us legitimacy. We'll be the men who rescued Emily and brought down the Lord Regent, and his assassin. We can pin that on Corvo, too. You'll see to her body, won't you, Samuel? We can take care of Corvo's." 

"Yes, sir." Jessamine's vision blacks out once more to the sounds of footsteps, roused awake once more when Samuel shakes her shoulder. 

"Jess, can you hear me?" 

"S...sam...uel..." She's slurring, not entirely in control of her senses. 

There's both relief and guilt on Samuel's face. 

"I'm sorry something terrible, Jess. But I only gave you half the poison. They were watching me and it was all I could think to do. I think you're strong enough to survive that, but I know there's nothing I can say to excuse myself, or to make up for betrayin' you like this." 

"s'alright... samuel... I don'... blame.." 

"Listen, Jess. I'll put you on a raft, and then I've got to ship out, myself, before they find out I've gone against their wishes. Snakes. They'll want to do the same to me as soon as I've outlived my uses. Hopefully, you'll wake up and find your way out of this cursed city." 

He stands, just as her vision blurs and fades once more.

"Thank you... Samuel..."

...

The motions of the raft Samuel placed Jessamine on were gentle, like the cradle she once rocked Emily in so long ago. The tips of her fingers skimmed water as she slowly came to her senses. 

She was in the Flooded district. 

She was still in Dunwall, at least. She could make her way back to the Pub, find Piero or maybe Samuel if he was still there. Find out where those snakes took Emily and Corvo and get them back. She could still regain her life. This couldn't have all been for nothing.

The wood of the boat made her back stiff, but before she could sit up, two people manifested before her, not unlike the Outsider. Their whaling garb was the same as the assassins who attacked Jessamine before and she freezes. Did they come to finish the job?

"This is the Empress. Daud was supposed to kill her." One, kneeling closest to her in the boat, said in a rather clinical, detached manner. His whaling mask comes close to Jessamine's mouth and he sniffs the air. "Poisoned. Tyvian stuff." 

The other assassin is kneeling on the far said of the boat. "Amateur work. She'll live." He scoffs, unimpressed. "If Daud was supposed to kill her, she should have been dead. Why is she alive?" 

The first assassin grabs her wrists, holding her hand up to show his comrade the back of it. "Look at this. A Mark." 

The judgmental assassin stares back at her hand while the first drops her wrist. "Why would he interfere with Daud's work? What should we do with her?"

"We'll leave that up to Daud" says the first as Jessamine faints. 

...  

The sounds of chains and levers wakes Jessamine this time. A Whaler stands at the end of her boat, guiding it, while two more of his brethren watch a cage being lowered to the water on a pulley. One comes close, lifting her like a net of fish before tenderly depositing her into the cage. She allows it, frozen from shock and the after-effects of the poison. The cage lifts, towards what appears to be an abandoned oil refinery. Gaggles of Whalers mingle below her. 

"What's Daud going to think about this?" She hears one, a woman in her forties judging by the voice, say. 

"What do you mean 'this'?" Asks one, a man it sounds like, no older than twenty years. "Daud failed. He's losing his touch." 

"She meant the Mark, idiot." Replies a third, a woman around thirty, it sounds. "What's Daud going to do when he finds out that the Outsider sabotaged his work?" 

"Shush up." A fourth whaler approaches her, holding a sleep bolt in their hand. "You should be worrying about which unlucky son of a bitch is going to have to break the news to Daud." 

She doesn't have the energy to fight back, the Whaler prodding her with the dart and watching, intently, as she loses consciousness. 

...

There's a familiarity to the space she wakes up in, and it dawns on Jessamine: she's back in the Void. A small, stone staircase is in front of her, and as soon as she's reached the top, the Outsider has the audacity to appear before her. 

"Here you are at last, Jessamine, in a ruined and drowning world." He sounds disinterested, as though he's waiting for her to do something to catch his eye. "Held captive and to be passed over to the man who tried to kill you, the assassin Daud." 

"Spare me. He's your man, isn't he?" There's a glimmer in his eye when she says this. 

"I didn't tell him to stab you. Is this hostility really necessary? I've never tried to kill you, as so many of your other allies have. Oh, yes, I've seen it, Jessamine. Your friends poisoned you and dumped your body in the river. Did they do it to protect themselves, so no one would ever know what they'd done?" 

He leans in, looking sickeningly amused. 

"Or was it because they were a single move away from controlling an Empire, and they knew you'd never let them manipulate Emily? Maybe none of these." He shrugs, looking down at her as she stands speechless before him. "Perhaps that's just the nature of man."

He fades out again, as she regains consciousness in the real world.

...

She was in some sort of pit, debris and rats strewn about as a whaler closed the lid to her cell. Patting down her coat, she found relief in the knowledge that Samuel had placed her equipment on her. Her mask provided a comfort as she picked bits of rubble from the floor of the cell, throwing them at the wooden door that trapped her in there. When enough of the wood had been broken, she was able to Blink out of the pit to free herself. 

It appeared that she was in some sort of factory in the Flooded District, in a far off wing. She had her equipment, but now what? River Krusts and Whalers littered the district, equally as unpleasant, but with her magic she could easily escape, get to the Pub, but Daud... it was too tempting to confront the man who had played a part in the near-ruin of the Empire, who had made her daughter suffer and almost cost Corvo his life. To find him, confront him, to gain catharsis. Revenge solves everything, as they say, and it would be on her way out.

The Heart is pumping in her coat, beating near as hard as her own. 

_"They butchered the deep ones here, breathing in the rich stink of their enchanted flesh. The leviathans now float alongside me in the Void."_

The water in the Flooded District is filthy, tainted with muck and the remains of what once was a vibrant district in her proud city, destroyed by neglect. The inhabitants of the district are replaced by hagfish and river krusts, Whalers and Weepers. Some part of Jessamine relates to the district, once so prosperous but now so sullied. Two Whalers stand on the balcony of the oil refinery as she passes by it. 

"Why would she come here?" One asks.

"Hard to say," replies the other, his voice not as deep as the first's, "but we should watch the streets. We'll see her from the rooftops." 

"Alright. If nothing else we can cut her off at the market." 

"She can't get through the rail station without the key." 

The first walks to the edge of the balcony, looking out at the district. "This one is resourceful. She'll find a way." 

Damned right she'd find a way.

The refinery didn't appear to be the Whalers' base of operations, just a building used by them. It was in disrepair, messy, and from below Jessamine could hear the moans of a Weeper. Whale oil was spilled on the floor and most of the steps were broken. Traversing them with Blink was no problem, but Jessamine saw that the Weeper on the ground floor wore a red coat and had a brand on his face. 

"Oh, Campbell." He takes notice of her when she speaks, shambling towards her when she climbs down with her blade in her hand. "You deserved what I gave you, but you didn't deserve this." She drives her sword into his stomach and he stiffens, gurgling as he falls still to the floor. 

After turning the crank to the refinery's door and wading through waist-deep water, past the corpses of Overseers, Jessamine finds the outside of the rail station. Assassins linger about patrolling, but it's easy enough for her to stay crouched and hidden to reach the foreman's office. Sure enough, a key was left on a rack, giving her access to the station. A makeshift walkway was constructed, obviously used by Daud and his men to avoid the Weepers below. It's easy enough to scale the sides of crumbling buildings, easy enough to reach an opening in the building the Whalers seem to filter in and out of like ants. An old chamber of commerce serves as Daud's base. The tops of file cabinets serve Jessamine well, keeping her hidden from the assassins below. One comments to the other that Daud holds the key to tunnel out of the district, just one more reason to confront him. 

 The doors to the central office of the chamber were closed. One assassin manifests before the door, but before they can enter Jessamine puts them in a choke hold, dumping their body in the corner before prodding the doors open. Daud is right there, so close. 

He turns when she's just feet away from him. 

"You." He sounds as though he were expecting her. "The Masked Felon, right? My men told me they had captured someone, but they wouldn't say who. I don't know what I expected." 

"Did you expect me?" Jessamine tears her mask off, and Daud goes blank. His jaw drops, his face pale as milk, and he backs away, bumping into his desk. 

"No... No..." He shakes his head in disbelief. "It can't be you. This... this has to be a trick!" He rubs his eyes with the palms of his hands, over and over, each time looking up at Jessamine, expecting her to be gone. "The Outsider made you, didn't he? That black-eyed bastard made you to torment me, right? To push me over the edge?" 

"Stop that." She scolds him like the child he's acting like. "I'm as real as you are." 

"No. No you can't be. I killed you. I know I did. I felt the blade go into you. You couldn't have survived that." Daud's knuckles are white as he grips the edge of his desk for support. His knees buckle when she holds up her hand and he sees the Mark on the back. 

"He gave that to you? What does he want from me, then?" 

"He doesn't want anything from you. I came here for myself." 

A manic grin spreads across Daud's face. "Of course. Of course! Blood for blood, right?" He draws his own sword, taking the blade in his hand and thrusting the hilt towards Jessamine. "Take it. Please." Once Jessamine, reluctantly, takes the sword from him, he drops to his knees in front of her, sitting back on his haunches. 

"Do it." There's resignation in his voice, his eyes locked on the floor. "Blood for blood. Please. I'd give back all the coin Burrows gave me if I could just fix what broke in me after what I did. No one should have to kill an Empress. But I can't, you killed him yourself. Dying by your hand is the next best thing. Please." He sounds on the verge of crying, now expecting the blade once wet with her blood to now be wet with his own. The Heart throbs in her pocket. 

_"His guilt consumes him. His sleep disturbed, no joy found in the activities that once brought him such._

_He saved the Kaldwin girl from a witch named Delilah. He trapped Delilah in her own painting, yet his guilt continues._

_He wishes for freedom. He wishes for relief. The Outsider grants him no reprieve."_

After a moment of consideration, Jessamine gets on one knee, and drives the blade into the floor in front of Daud. 

Taking a fistful of his hair, she yanks his head back as hard as she can muster, but he doesn't make a sound. 

"No. You will have to _live with yourself_." She snarls into his ear, letting his head drop back, the broken man sitting rigid on the floor. His eyes are dull and he pays no attention to her as she plucks the key from his belt. He stares at the blade jammed in the floor, and continues to do so as she turns and leaves.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jessamine exits the flooded district, encounters Granny Rags, and finally makes it back to the Hound Pits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually like Granny Rags a lil because she reminds me of my own granny, except instead of being a witch my granny is just racist.

The tunnel from Daud's base went through a sewer. Ironic, Jessamine was wading through filth to get to filth, but minor discomfort wasn't going to keep her from getting to the so-called Loyalists and rescuing her daughter. The rest of the district was in ruin, buildings reduced to nothing but rubble and bodies littered everywhere. Rats scurried about, hungry for whatever scraps of flesh they could get while a cart dumped more bodies into a ravine. They nipped at Jessamine's heels, and when she Blinked into an abandoned house, she was surprised to find it was occupied. 

"Get back!" The woman was sick, defensive while still coughing and gagging. "What the hell are you?" 

"I'm just trying to make it out of the district. Nothing more." 

"Passing through, huh? Hoping to catch a ride on the plague wagon? A few come through here, trying. And they fall and break their necks. But that won't stop you. You're almost there." 

"I am?" 

The woman takes a packet of cigarettes from her pocket. "It's pretty easy to get to the rooftops from here. You'll see the way." 

"Thank you. Sorry to bother you."

The woman takes a battered lighter out from the same pocket she received the cigarettes, lighting her cigarette and inhaling deeply. "Yeah, no problem. Just leave me be." 

It becomes obvious that the abandoned buildings in the district are home to more plague victims, survivors who have yet to die. At the top of the ravine of corpses, a man is holding another man by his underarms. 

"I can't... see anything. I must be... be in a basement?" The man being held wheezes, his head lolling back onto his friend's chest. 

"There's no hospital, I told you that." His friend says, trying to pull the sick man up onto the pavement with him. "You think they round people up because there's a cure?"

"They're city guards!... They're... supposed to... to protect people!" The sick man responds before succumbing to a phlegm-ridden cough. 

Jessamine watches, nauseated, as the healthier man manages to pull his sick friend up with a groan. 

"They did." He replies. "They protect the healthy people from people like us. The sick ones." 

"I'm not... that bad." The sicker man protests. "Some people pull through. Right?... Don't they?" 

"One in a thousand. Ten thousand, probably."

"Any chance... I'll take... When I get out of here... and get better... I'm going to do right this time... A fresh start. This time..." He trails off, dying in his friend's arms. 

"Goodbye, my boy." 

The surviving man, still holding his now deceased companion, isn't bothered when he sees Jessamine.

"I'm sorry about your friend." It's all she can offer, and he seems to accept it. 

"He was better than he though he was." He looks over Jessamine. "Strange. You don't look ill. You're not a victim, not a guard. A spirit from the Void, maybe?" 

"Just someone passing though." 

"Good luck with that." The man looks off into the distance. "Another wagon comes every few minutes. How many do you think have died? They say a third of the city. I wouldn't have believed it, but I saw the mound of corpses myself. They dropped us in it!" His grip on his friend tightens. "I don't blame them, I know why they do it. But I only wanted to die at home." 

"At least you could provide comfort to a friend." 

He looks melancholic. "Yeah. Yeah, I could. At least I could do that. Good luck, lady." 

It's disgraceful, they way the guards around the district talk of the plague victims. They were people, _her_ people. If Sokolov made it out of the Loyalists' betrayal, she'd pay whatever it took to get his research even that much closer to finding a cure. 

In another building, a small cluster of survivors were holed up. They talked among themselves, paying Jessamine no mind as she passed through. One man, however, flagged her down when he saw her. 

"I know you. I heard you've been all over town scaring the piss out of the higher-ups. You've got a quite a name. Too bad you're stuck down here with the rest of us." He sounded impressed with her, no doubt the reputation of the "Masked Felon" spreading after the death of the Lord Regent. 

"I'm trying to make my way out. There's got to be a way." 

"Funny you should mention that. I've got friends coming to break me out of here in a couple days. But we first need to take that arc pylon down." 

"I'm assuming you're not up to the task? Feeling too sick?" 

The man gets a small laugh out of that. "Yeah, I am. All of us are. You don't sound sick, though. Don't suppose I can get you to be a good neighbor and help us out?" When she nods in affirmation, the man sighs with relief. "Thank you. You'll find it in the courtyard just behind these buildings. You may want to take the stairs up, though. It'll give you a good vantage point. Pull the oil tank out, and the pylon powers down. Might want to hurry, though. When they get the floodlights on, the Tall Boys are coming in to clear this place out."

He gives her a key, and wishes her luck.

The arc pylon was just outside the tenement, watched over by a solitary guard. All he needed was a single bolt and he was down. Approaching the pylon, Jessamine slowed time, tugging the oil tank out before the sparks could reach her. Inside the tenement the survivor stood, waiting.

"The pylon is down." 

"I ain't seen nothing braver," he exclaims, "and I worked the river for fifteen years! Thanks for shutting that thing off." 

"I was glad to help. But be careful out there."

"I will. I think they got the flood lights on. Stay quiet, and I'll get these people moving. 

The survivor rounded his fellows up, flocking towards the door. The leader, the one the others referred to as Blake, moved to the front of the crowd. 

"How's it look out there, lady?" 

Craning her head out the door, Jessamine gestured for the survivors to come forward. "A Tall Boy just passed by, better hurry." 

Blake's group rushed out towards the back lot, gathering together around one another close to Blake. 

"Alright, listen up, ladies and gents!" He calls, holding his arms open. "Now, like I said before... it may be another day before my old buddies can get here, but they've got a boat big enough for the lot of us. So just sit tight. One thing you learn from being a smuggler: half of any job is waiting." 

He turns to Jessamine. "Thanks for helping us out. You can wait with us if you want, or fight your wait out. I stashed some elixirs up here, too, if you want them." 

"Keep them. You all need them more than I do." 

Each survivor waves and gives thanks as she turns to leave. It's enough, knowing that she helped at least some of her citizens.

...

The gate out of the district was guarded by a Wall of Light. Once an outgoing train passed through, all Jessamine had to do was hop aboard, Blink off and take the oil tank out of the port, and walk out into the Old Port District. 

Again with the sewers. Old Dunwall Sewer would be her easiest way to the Pub, but still she had traversed through sewers too many times for one woman.

Inside the sewer, a thug lay wounded against the brick wall.

"Hey, you're the masked guy who's been taking down all the lords and ladies." He's clutching his side, his breathing labored. "No way through this gate, unless you got the sewer key."

"Where can I find the key? Do you know?"

The thug shakes his head. "Yeah, and I wouldn't go there, not for all the gold in Dunwall Tower. Not again. Maybe you could pull it off, though. Something attacked us in the Distillery. It used the rats, I know it sounds crazy, but then it run back under the streets. So we come down here to kill it, Slackjaw leadin' the way. Went bad. I barely crawled out. Dunno what happened to Slackjaw. He had the sewer key, though." The thug leans back, closing his eyes and clutching his side harder.

It wasn't hard to explore deeper within the sewers. The River Krusts were pests, as usual, but it was more of a nuisance to search for Slackjaw and the key, to swim through the stale water of the sewer and search through the chambers for him. As her patience grew thin, she could swear that she heard a familiar voice from one chamber. 

"I'm going to boil off the nasty fat and sinew and carve a pretty song on your bones." 

Granny Rags. Within the chamber, Jessamine saw large whale ribs impaled in the ground, a boiling cauldron, and Slackjaw, in a stock. 

"Hey!" The chains of the stock rattled as he struggled. "Someone come kill this crazy witch! I can make you rich!" 

"Quiet now. Granny needs to concentrate." 

"Don't kill me! Granny Rags, stop!" The chains rattled further as he tried to pry free from his bonds. "Stop what you're doing! Can we at least talk about it?!" 

"My knives gotta be nice and sharp to cut into your skeleton, Slackjaw." She cackles like a witch from a storybook. "Nice and sharp!" 

Her kindly old woman persona is put back on when she notices Jessamine come forward. "There's my love!" She puts her hands together as she coos. "Are you ready to help get Slackjaw's bones? Granny has some birthday gifts for you. I've been saving 'em up, in case you ever come back to me."

"Granny, what are you doing?" 

"Why, I'm cooking, darling! Cooking Slackjaw up into a nice supper, and using his bones for gifts! Aren't you going to help your Granny? I'll let you have the first taste if you do." 

"No," Jessamine looks back at Slackjaw, still shaking in the stock. "Granny Rags, this is ridiculous. I won't help you kill Slackjaw." 

Her facade drops at Jessamine's refusal. "Not going to help Granny? Well, I'm disappointed. You better leave." 

"No. Granny Rags, let Slackjaw go." 

The old witch scowls. "Foolish girl. You'd best listen to your Granny. I was like you once, and you'll be like me. You think you'll stay young and pretty forever? You'll only be loved by the black-eyed groom, take my word for it, and you'll help me if you know what's good for you."

"Granny, no. I'm not like you." 

"No, you're not. You couldn't be like me if you wanted to. You think you're going to save him? He's not worth it! Now Granny is going to kill you! Just like all the others!" 

Granny Rags rears back, summoning her rats and teleporting up to an alcove. Slackjaw clatters his chains. 

"Jessamine, listen! Find her cameo! She can't be killed , it's the cameo! The secret is in the cameo! Look around, find it and destroy it in the furnace. That's where she gets her powers. Throw it into the furnace, burn it and you kill her!" 

The rats swarmed Jessamine as she climbed the stairs up to Granny Rag's makeshift bedroom. No matter how many she swatted away with the blade, more would come. She had to find that cameo and she had to find it fast. There were no jewelry boxes in the bedroom, just stacks of books and the bed. She spread the books open to their spines and shook out the sheets, and the cameo came tumbling out from under a pillow. She had to stomp her feet to keep the rats at bay, but she was able to put it in the furnace, just as Slackjaw said. This only served to enrage Granny Rags. 

"I won't go away! You can't kill me, but I can kill you!" She screeched, continuing to blink in and out of existence, away from Jessamine. She appeared, suddenly, behind her, poised to attack. 

"It's too late for him! And now it's too late for y-" She was stopped, mid-sentence, as Jessamine swung around and drove her blade into the old woman's side. Her body crumpled to the floor, leaving behind a ghostly howl that reverberated throughout the entire chamber. 

"Is it over? Is she dead?" Slackjaw called out, shaking his shackles. 

"Yes. Yes, she's dead." Jessamine rushed forward to pull the lever on the stocks, releasing Slackjaw. He stood, shaking slightly. 

"Wanna know something funny? When we were kids we were scared of Granny Rags. Thought she was a terrible witch! Then we grew up and figured she was just a sad old lady." He stares off at Granny Rags's body. "We were right the first time. Now, ain't that funny? I owe you, Jessamine." A coin purse is pushed into Jessamine's hands, and is promptly pushed back. 

"You don't owe me anything, Slackjaw." 

"I do. I like to be squared off, see? This is nothing in exchange for saving my hide from a witch." The purse is pushed back, and Slackjaw runs a hand over his face. "Luck be to you, Jessamine." 

... 

Dunwall Sewer exited into an abandoned building. A small figure was bolting down a door shutter, and Jessamine recognized her as Cecelia. She flinched when Jessamine came close. 

"Please! No!" She clutches her hands to her chest. "Oh, it's you, Miss Kaldwin. Thank the stars. We all thought you'd been killed. Except for Samuel. He seemed sure you had survived. I saw him on the river shortly before the killing began. He was smart enough not to come ashore, but I'll bet he's still out there. Looking for you is my guess." 

"I'm fine, Cecelia." Jessamine takes the young woman's hands in her own. "Are you alright? What happened?"

Her hands tremble in Jessamine's. "At first, Pendleton said it was time for our bonus. Havelock stood behind them, and at the signal he shot them each in the back of the head, just like the target drills he used to. Lydia barely had time to scream." She takes a breath. "I would be dead too, except Wallace told me I wouldn't be getting anything. Pendleton kept apologizing, saying that no one could ever know about the things they'd done. Martin was drinking and seemed sad."

"You poor dear. Are you the only one who survived?"

"No. The Admiral was about to shoot Callista, then he mumbled something about owing her uncle, Captain Curnow, a debt. They said it was time for Sokolov, and went off to find him. I don't know what happened after that." 

"Did you see Emily? Is she alright?"

"Yes. Emily was there when the killing started, poor child. I hope she hid her eyes." 

"Are you going to be alright, Cecelia?" 

The barmaid nods her head. "I'm going to stay here until the guards clear out. I've got some bread and pears and tins of meat just in case. I'll be okay. The doors are locked, and there's a key by the door. Please, you stay safe, miss." 

"I will, Cecelia. Take care of yourself." Jessamine kisses her cheek. "And if someone finds you, you ram the heel of your palm as hard as you can into their chin. Corvo taught me that, and it'll hurt them enough that you can get away." 

"Yes, miss. I'll remember that. Thank you, for everything." 

Outside the Pub, Watch officers scurried about like mice from a nest. A Tall Boy patrolled nearby. The Pub itself was deserted, but the door to Piero's workshop was bolted shut. Cecelia didn't know what happened to Sokolov, perhaps he was still alive? With her Blink, Jessamine was able to enter through the top floor's balcony, and was immediately greeted by Piero's voice as she climbed down the stairs.

"It's refreshing to converse with someone on my own level."

"I couldn't agree more. Your expulsion from the Academy was a crime against natural philosophy itself." Sokolov's voice came next. So both he and Piero were alive.

"Which you might have pointed out at the time. But it's pointless to hold a grudge. I want to ask you-"

"About the elixir, yes. And I need to discuss your tonic. Why have you not tried the homeopathic solution?"

"And where am I to find the subjects? I cannot recruit from the prisons as you do. But it's forced me to work with another agent derived from-"

"The River Krusts, yes. I'd guessed as much. But I think our approaches may reinforce each other. This is what we've been lacking thus far!"

The two men sat huddled under the tables in the workshop, crawling out when Jessamine approached. 

"Jessamine! It's good to see that you still breathe!" Sokolov stretched out his back, walking forward. "The city would not be the same if you were not with us!" 

"Anton, what happened? Are you alright?"

"Hmm? Yes, yes, I'm fine. Listen, I've completed Piero's work on an arc pylon, but only just."

Piero steps forward. "With this device we can send a powerful electrical signal through the nervous system, merely rendering our enemies unconscious. Or they can be reduced to ashes. I've attuned it so that we will be safe from the functions of the device. It will only trigger in the presence of our enemies. This arc pylon is more powerful than the older design. It will function at a greater range, striking down our foes, while ignoring us."

"Good. Knock them out, Piero." The inventor scratches the back of his head at this.

"Well, the thing is, I need my final sequence, which was recorded in the blueprint for this device. Havelock was inspecting it before... the killing started. Return the blueprint the blueprint to me, it was in his bedroom before he left. Hopefully it's still there." 

"Sit tight, you two. I'll be back as soon as possible." 

...

The guards were nothing. Even with the Pub upturned, it was still a simple task for her to go through the Pub, unseen, and get the blueprints. Along with them was a note from Havelock was left in the barroom, telling the Captain of the Guard that he had taken Emily to Kingsparrow Island. Her daughter was on Kingsparrow Island.

Getting back to Piero proved no issue. She had harder tasks at hand, this was the least of her worries. Piero was ecstatic, to say the least, giving an "astonishing!" when the schematics were passed back to him.

"The arc pylon is complete!" He announces, standing proudly by his creation. "Now, to activate it. Unconscious, as you said." Sokolov looks on, delighted, as Piero punches in the sequence. 

"There! All is ready, Jessamine. All that remains is plugging in a whale oil tank to power it. Will you do the honor?" 

"I'd be honored, Piero." 

She's careless as she climbs up to the power grids, the Tall Boy catching sight of her as soon as she plugs the tank in. Before he can act, however, the pulse from the pylon throws both of them back. Only Jessamine is left conscious, however. 

From the workshop, there's the noise of heavy footsteps on metal stairs and Piero and Sokolov come rushing out. 

"Amazing!" Piero huffs, trying to catch his breath. "Simply amazing! It functioned beyond my greatest expectations! It defies description! A device like this will ensure Dunwall's security for a century!"

With all the guards incapacitated, Jessamine rushes unbidden towards Emily's tower, banging her fist on the locked door. 

"Callista, it's me!" 

"Jessamine? I can't believe you're alive!" Callista speaks through the door. "They killed everyone to cover it all up, then they took Emily with them and left!" The door swings open and Callista stands before her, frazzled. "I couldn't do anything to protect her." 

"I know, Callista. I'm going to find her, and make her safe again. I found a note in the bar, saying Havelock took her to Kingsparrow Island. That's where I'm going." 

Callista brushes her hair from her face. "All this talk of being an honorable military man, but Havelock will use Emily like a puppet to his own advantage. Something changed in the Admiral as soon as the Lord Regent died. It had been building up. Martin was acting strange, going quiet if any of us were near. Whispering late into the night with Havelock and Pendleton while you were out doing the real work." She sits on the bed, exhaling. "I think they realized they were one step away from holding the same position the Lord Regent had. And worried they'd be held accountable for what they did here, as the 'Loyalists'. They would have killed me too, but Havelock spared me. Out of respect for my uncle, I believe. Samuel set this here in case you returned. You can use it to call him, and he said he'd come quickly. Hopefully there's a place he can dock where the Watch won't see him." Callista points to the window where a flare gun has been positioned. 

"Thank you, Callista. The Watch have all been put to sleep by Piero and Sokolov's arc pylon. I'll call him now." 

"Then you can get out safe, and get to Emily." 

The Heart thumps. 

_"Emily banged her head in the confusion. They dragged her crying into the waiting boat. She called your name, she called Corvo's name._

_Callista tried to protect her, but they pulled the child from her arms. Oh, the curses she spat at them!"_

"I will, Callista. And thank you for trying your best." 

As soon as the lever on the flare gun is pulled, Jessamine can see Samuel's boat approach the shore. He's docked within minutes, waiting with a smile while Jessamine sprints down to see him. 

"Thought I'd find you here. Never pays to bet against you, does it?" 

He reaches out to help her into the boat, and she takes the old man in for a hug. 

"Samuel, I can't thank you enough for what you did." 

He's grinning sheepishly when she pulls away and steps in the boat. "I didn't do anything. You got yourself here. I just knew you'd be back." 

"I'd be dead if not for you, Samuel. Thank you."

"Anything for you, Jess. Listen, we'll need to get out of here soon. The Admiral controls the military now. Martin's High Overseer. And Pendleton's in favor with the aristocracy and Parliament. They need Emily, of course, but if Havelock senses that it's all about to fall down around him, who knows what he's liable to do." 

"He's not going to do anything. Not if I have a say in it."

"Atta girl, Jess. Looks like we're in for one last boatride, huh? Where to?" 

"Kingsparrow Island, Samuel. I'm going to get my daughter back, no matter what."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's 6am I haven't slept so forgive me if this isn't proofread well.


	12. Finale: The Light at the End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The light at the end comes for us all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I saw all your comments in my inbox and I was FLOORED. Thanks for tuning in to this wild ride and sticking with me! I've got a tumblr if you want to talk about this, ask about my take on the lore or anything. I had a lot of ideas.

Samuel's hands shook as he kept his grip on the boat's controls, the severity of the situation looming over both his and Jessamine's heads. The lighthouse would either be Jessamine's greatest victory, or her grave. 

"This is it, Jess." Samuel waved his hand towards the lighthouse in the distance. "I suspect Havelock, Martin, and Lord Pendleton landed there awhile ago and went into the lighthouse. Knowing them, they're not giving up without a fight." 

The lighthouse itself was massive and well-fortified, resembling a fortress more than it's namesake. 

"It's like a prison." Jessamine said, staring towards the massive, black structure. 

Samuel looks to the horizon, contemplating for a moment.

"I remember hearing the Admiral and Martin talking about this place as where they'd hole up if they had to." He responds, "Anybody going in has to breach the fort and the gatehouse, and then there's only one way to the top." 

"Nothing's going to keep me from Emily and Corvo. They'll have to pry the two of them out of my cold, dead hands, and they'll have to do their own dirty work." 

"You also were a determined gal, Jess. It's admirable. All I can say is that it's been a pleasure serving with you. Maybe after all this is settled, we'll see each other again." 

"Definitely. You'll always be welcome at Dunwall Tower, Samuel. I'll make sure there's even a place for you to sleep out in the yards." 

Samuel smiles back, melancholic, as he parks the boat. "Just make sure my bedroll don't have gold leaf or anything on it. I'm a man of simple tastes." 

"I mean it, Samuel." She gives the old boatman a peck on the cheek before stepping out of the boat. "I couldn't have done this without you." 

"I don't know about that. But, good luck, Jess. If anyone deserves it, you do. And give my best to Emily. After she's on the throne, she won't have time for an old man like me."

"She will. You don't think so, but you've done so much for her." 

Almost bashful, Samuel meets Jessamine's eyes. "I knew you were sharp, Jess, but you somehow managed to get through all this mess without losing sight of what really matters. For that, I respect you." He gazes out at the waters. "The city's gonna pull itself up, I believe. Too many good people here to let it all turn to ashes."

...

The architects for the lighthouse clearly didn't anticipate someone with magic breaking in. Enough rafters and metal beams were scattered about that Jessamine barely tired herself out Blinking across them, past the bored guards scattered along their posts and to the elevator of the lighthouse. The lift took far to long to reach its destination, and goodness knows what those snakes were subjecting Emily and Corvo to while it took it's time, while Jessamine snuck up walls and through glass patio doors. 

"Remember when this was just a dream shared by a few angry, desperate men in the back room of a bar?" 

Below the balcony she stood on, Havelock stood near a fireplace, glass in hand. Martin and Pendleton sat limp in chairs at the nearby table, Martin's head lolled forward and Pendleton bent sideways at the waist. Dead, not even the co-conspirators were safe. With no thought and hesitation, Jessamine yelled down to him as she put her foot on the railing of the balcony. 

"Havelock!" 

He stares back at her, a dull expression on his face, as she drops to the floor. She stands, fist clenched, only a few feet away from him. 

"Did you think I'd fight you, Jessamine?" He takes a sip from his drink and sets it on the table. "Sorry to disappoint." 

"No." Jessamine unfolds her blade as she walks towards him. "You're going to die by my hand." 

She takes a swipe at the admiral, who draws his own sword and manages to lock blades with her. For a few seconds they struggle, until Havelock cuts Jessamine's hand, causing her to drop her blade to the ground. In her fury, she dives at his arm, twisting his forearm until he drops his own sword, and pushes him back onto the table. 

"You son of a bitch!" Her nails ache as she claws into his face, trying to get her hands around his throat. "How dare you do this to my daughter!?" 

Havelock grips her wrists, hard enough to hinder the blood flow to her hands. He pushes her over onto her back and tries to strangle her. Planting her boot in his stomach, it takes all of Jessamine's strength to keep him away from her. 

"You stupid wretch!" He groans when Jessamine stomps his gut, doubling over and giving her a chance to tackle him again. He catches her hands before she can go for his throat, grappling with her. "I'm going to go down in history! Emily will let me prosper as the new Lord Regent! Empress or assassin, you're not going to stop me! I'll use her, a traumatized child who imagined her mother for leverage while getting glory from handing in Corvo, the assassin. I'm going to be admired by this nation!" 

Jessamine slaps one of his hands away, freeing hers. As hard as she can, she slams her fist into Havelock's nose. He clutches his face as she climbs off him, scrambling for her sword and he sits up and tries to compose himself. 

"Over my dead body, you fucking snake." She growls as she kicks his sword away. 

Blood flows freely from Havelock's nose. "I wouldn't have this problem if Samuel had just done his job. So hungry for purpose but he can't do one thing right." Havelock swings towards her, trying to smack her with the back of his hand, but he staggers and allows her to duck. 

"Samuel's a nobler man than you'll ever be." Havelock draws his pistol, but Jessamine is too close. She rams her blade into his forearm, swiftly. His hand still clutches the gun, and Jessamine bends his arm so that the barrel of the pistol is under his chin. 

"No, Jessamine n-" The bullet goes through his head before he can finish. 

As he lays there, bits of skull scattered in the blood pooling from his head, Jessamine drops to her knees and searches him. 

"Come on... come on... if you have Emily locked up, then you have the key."

She can hear banging nearby, Emily's voice muffled behind a door. "who is that? Admiral Havelock?" 

The key is plucked from Havelock's pocket, and on trembling legs Jessamine searches for her daughter's cell. Once the door swings open, her daughter runs into her arms. 

"Mommy! I knew you'd come!" 

She holds her tight, Emily grabbing hold of her hand when she pulls back. 

"Corvo's in here! Is he asleep? Please tell me he isn't dead!" 

Corvo was dumped carelessly on the floor of the cell, but his pulse is there. Thank goodness. Jessamine presses a kiss to his wrist and turns back to Emily. 

"He's asleep, Emily. We'll get him to Sokolov and he'll make sure he's okay." 

"Are things going to be alright now, mommy?" Emily puts her hand over her mother's while she holds Corvo's. 

"Yes, darling. Things will be alright now, I promise." 

... 

Epilogue

...

The Empress held a candle in her hand as she opened her bedroom door. An Overseer, a baby-faced man no older than twenty-two, stood before her. 

"What's the matter?" 

The Overseer gives a panicked bow. "I'm... I'm so sorry, Empress Emily! I didn't mean to wake you!" 

"No, it's quite alright." Her dressing robe was fastened up to her collar and her hair was loose around her shoulders. "I wasn't having much luck sleeping tonight. Please, what's wrong?" 

"Oh, I um. I need your wife. I mean, the High Overseer, my Lady." 

"Of course. I'll go fetch her right away. Please, wait here." 

In Emily's bed, a lump was under her sheets. A thick mass of curly, dark brown hair spilled out from the top. 

"Lilian." Emily shook the lump. "Lili, wake up." 

"I was awake." Her wife peeked out from under the covers. "I guess I'm not gonna get to sleep tonight." 

Emily sets the candle on the dresser, going to her armoire to pull a red Overseer's coat from a hanger. "Is it the nightmares again, love?" 

Lilian wore her underclothes to bed, boyish knickers and a simple camisole, contrasting her wife's lacy nightgown. "You know me too well, my little apricot tartlet." She sits on the edge of the bed, watching Emily. "Who's at the door?" 

"One of your men. He needs you." 

Lilian grabs her own robe, throwing it on and padding to the bedroom door to answer the Overseer while Emily dresses and pins up her hair. 

"What is it?" She was always so gruff with her men.

"High Overseer Rainford, ma'am! Sorry to wake you, but there's been an urgent request from some citizens on Bottle Street. They suspect their neighbor of witchcraft, and want us to come inspect it. They suspect there might be a shrine and we need you to come advise us."

"Alright, go on. I'll meet you there." She closes the door in his face as he stammers out another apology and a goodbye. Coming up behind her, Emily gently rubs her biceps and kisses her on the shoulder.

"I'm sure it's nothing, Lili. Just some skittish folk. We'll be back in bed before you know it." 

"We? You're coming too?" 

"Consider it a surprise visit from the Empress to see how the Abbey is doing." 

... 

It was bitterly cold on Bottle Street that night, Emily shivering into her coat while her wife walked alongside her. 

"You look comfortable. Aren't you cold?" Lilian looks ahead as they walk, her profile statuesque and gorgeous with her strong jaw and prominent nose. 

"No. You forget that I'm half Tyvian." She pushes a stray lock of hair behind Emily's ear while Emily pulls her coat tighter onto her. 

"Well I'm half Serkonian and I'm freezing!" 

Lilian grins. "Speaking of which, how's your mother? She and Corvo having fun in Karnaca?" 

"Goodness, yes. She writes almost every day. Corvo's loving it. All chatty with the locals and carefree. They're probably really warm right now, too." 

Before they get too close to the Overseers waiting for them by a dingy house, Lilian leans in close to her wife. 

"Don't worry," she purrs, "I'll warm you up later." She winks at Emily, who stifles a giggle behind chattering teeth. 

The Overseers stand at attention. "Men! What's the situation?" 

One steps forward. "High Overseer, ma'am. We've had reports of suspicious activity in the area. A man who lives in this house is suspected of being a witch, and his neighbors are in fear. They suspect he may be in possession of bone charms or runes. We need you to help us search the home and dispose of the items if they're here." He looks over at Emily, bowing politely in her direction. "Apologies, ma'am, but I didn't realize you were bringing the Empress." 

"I had some trouble sleeping, and I thought I'd check in on our dear Overseers. I'm glad to see you're continuing to serve as prime examples of faith and dedication." Emily's words drip with charisma, flustering the Overseer. 

"Thank you, my Lady. High Overseer Rainford, shall we begin?" 

Lilian keeps her arms crossed as she addresses the Overseers, a show of authority. It works, and her reputation as being stern and gruff shows it. 

"Go home to your families, men. One small house will take a few minutes, at most. I'll do this, and write the report in the morning." 

"Are you sure, ma'am?" 

"Yeah, go on. Get some sleep, so you can stay at your best."

They've learned not to doubt her judgment. "Yes ma'am. Have a good night, High Overseer, and you as well, my Lady."

The Overseers file out, leaving their High Overseer alone at the home. 

"Let's go, love, and get this done quick." She grumbles to Emily, stepping foot into the hovel. 

Inside, nothing much seems out of the ordinary. The kitchen is small, with a potbelly stove. The living room is filled with rickety old furniture and a shelf of battered books. In the bedroom, however, is a shrine. Rich purple fabric is draped over a small table, with a bone charm sitting atop it. 

"Glad I got to this before they did." Lilian murmurs, picking the charm up and putting it into her pocket. "Whoever this is, they can't afford to be put in the stocks. Poor sod like this, he'd probably get something even worse. Vultures, they are." 

"How are you going to get rid of it?" 

"Dump it in the bottom of the river on our way home. Put the cloth in a sack with some stones so it drops down too."

Both women stand in silence, just staring at the shrine when suddenly it begins to smoke. No, it looks like smoke, but it's something much different, from the Void itself. 

Drawing her sword, Lilian reaches out to put an arm out in front of her wife. "Stand behind me, Emily."

From the swirling void, a figure manifests above the meager shrine. He appears to be a young man, with dark hair and black eyes. The Outsider. 

"Hello, Empress Emily." 

He floats there, casually, while Lilian takes a more defensive stance. 

"What do you want, Leviathan? Be gone." 

Her attitude only serves to amuse him. "There's no need for aggression, High Overseer Rainford. May I call you Lilian, or do you prefer High Overseer?" 

"Neither, Leviathan. You don't know me." She reluctantly sheathes her sword. "Now, I suggest you go back to the Void. We have nothing for you here."

"But I do know you, High Overseer Rainford. We may not be the best of friends, but you don't hate me. I've seen what you've done. Oh yes. You were the apple of your parents' eyes. Your mother, Tyvian, married your father after she came to Dunwall in her youth. What they lacked in wealth they made up with in love, so much so that when the Plague came, your mother skipped her doses. Every other elixir ration went to you. Some elixir was better than no elixir, right?" The color drains from Lilian's face but the Outsider continues.

"But your mother died in a quarantine while you cried in your father's arms. And that's when the Abbey came, the Overseers found you had potential so they ripped you away from him. The Trials of Aptitude marked you in a way nothing, not even your mother's death, could. You were worthy, but your peers were put down like rabid dogs. And what was your reward for your divine worth? You come home, to find your father ill. He died of a disease of the bone two weeks later. You think you could have prevented that if the Abbey didn't take you. You could have worked and made enough money to afford a treatment."

"Shut up." It's a request, not a command, but the Outsider is relentless. He seeks to prove his point. 

"And that's when you made your plan, wasn't it? Work hard, become the High Overseer, and prevent the Abbey from abusing the poor as your family was so abused. You think you do it for yourself, but you and I both know you're not that selfish. You do it for people like your father, your mother, because you regret not loving them enough. I don't think it's your fault, you know. You didn't have enough time, but that doesn't prevent you from feeling guilt, and fear. You're afraid now, of parenthood. That's why you and your Empress haven't ushered in an heir." 

She spits in his face before he can say another word, but it dribbles off his skin like it didn't even touch him. The Outsider remains nonplussed. 

"Believe me, you aren't the first Overseer to spit in my face, but you're the first to do it literally." 

"You've made your point. What do you want." 

The Outsider gives a coy smile. "Just looking to give a courtesy to the fair Empress." He turns to Emily, looking her over. "You look so much like your mother, you know. Oh, Jessamine and I used to be dear friends. I haven't seen her in so long." 

"You know my mother? How?" 

"She'll tell you soon enough. I've heard Karnaca is lovely this time of year." 

The Outsider fades back into the Void, leaving both women puzzled. 


End file.
